Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
by britishinvasion
Summary: My version of Book 5. Includes some of my theories and predictions for the fifth book.
1. Little Hangleton

Disclaimer: I don't know if I'm supposed to have one of these or not, but since I don't want to get kicked off the site for plagiarism, I just want to clarify that I don't own Harry Potter, or anything related, (as if you didn't already know that), and I don't claim to.  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
Little Hangleton  
  
  
  
The villagers of Little Hangleton used to call it the "Riddle House", even though the Riddles had no longer lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village. It was one of the only things still standing in Little Hangleton.  
  
If there had been anybody left to talk about it, they would have certainly talked about how spooky and mysterious the old house had been. They would have talked about how fifty years ago the three Riddles had been discovered dead in their drawing room one morning. They would have talked about how the cause of death had never been determined and how the murderer, if there had been a murderer, had gotten clean away. And they certainly would have talked about how only a year ago Frank Bryce, the gardener of the Riddle House, had turned up dead in one of the upstairs rooms. But there was no one left in Little Hangleton, as John Covington had soon discovered.  
  
John had been bicycling out to the country to visit his mother when he had come upon the remains of Little Hangleton.  
  
Having traveled this way many times and having passed through the small village before, John was more than a little shocked when he first saw the smoldering ruins from a distance. But coming for a closer look, John had realized it was true. Little Hangleton had been completely destroyed.  
  
Just as strange was the fact that the "Riddle House" had survived unscathed. There were the usual signs of age and neglect: a few boarded and broken windows, tiles missing from the roof, and the overgrown weeds and ivy that were creeping their way up the house. But the fact that it wasn't a pile of rubble like the rest of the village was simply amazing.  
  
Despite the state of the village, John had been forced to take shelter amid the ruins when a strong, sudden thunderstorm raced into the area. Soaked, tired, and hungry, John sat beneath a half-collapsed roof and marveled at his surroundings.  
  
Being a very practical man, John was at a complete loss as to the thorough destruction around him. An earthquake, maybe? Or perhaps it was some massive rebuilding project? Whatever the reason, he should have heard something about this before now. Judging from the wreckage, it seemed as though the town had been destroyed for several weeks. Yet there had been nothing on the news or in the papers. And entire villages just didn't go falling to pieces everyday.  
  
A sudden thought struck John. Maybe he was the only one who knew. The village was relatively isolated and if everyone who lived there had really been killed...  
  
A movement in the wreckage behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. He spun around.  
  
There, only six feet away, was an enormous shaggy black dog, staring back at him. It sat there, soaking wet from the pouring rain outside.  
  
Startled, John jumped slightly and cracked his head on the low ceiling. He swore loudly and began rubbing his sore head. The dog stared at him.  
  
"What?" snapped John, irritated now. He was tired, he was sore, and he was hungry. "What do you want?"  
  
Then to John's dismay, the dog walked over to him, clamped its jaws softly around his arm, and began to gently pull him outside.  
  
It wants me to go with it, John realized. It was a crazy thought, yet he felt a strange urge to do so. Maybe the dog had a family it would lead him to, and that might mean food, shelter, and dry clothes. Before he fully realized what he was doing, John was pulling on his raincoat, strapping on his backpack, and mounting his bicycle.  
  
The dog, seeing that John was going to follow, set off into the rain, occasionally looking over its shoulder to make sure that John was still there.  
  
The two began making their way through the ruins of the village. The rain continued to come down in sheets and soon, John was soaked to the bone.  
  
This is stupid, he began telling himself after about fifteen minutes. What am I doing? Here I am in the pouring rain, following a dog.  
  
But just when John was about to turn back and take shelter once again, the dog came to a sudden stop. Having been lost in his thoughts, John had to quickly slam on the brakes, and in doing so, tumbled from the bicycle.  
  
He began swearing loudly once again, but the dog wasn't paying any attention. It had gone suddenly tense and was growling at something ahead. John wiped his glasses dry and peered into the driving rain.  
  
A dark figure was walking towards them.  
  
"Hello?" John called. The figure did not answer.  
  
Maybe he could help, John thought suddenly, maybe he has a house nearby.  
  
The figure stopped about ten feet away.  
  
"Hello?" John tried again. No response.  
  
The dog was growling very loudly now and was showing its long, sharp teeth.  
  
The figure was speaking now. It was a deep male voice, although the words were being swept away in the wind. John strained to hear but he only caught bits and pieces of what the man was saying.  
  
"...thought you were smarter...been snooping around again...bad mistake, Sirius..."   
  
John stood there, completely bewildered. What was he talking about? But then the thought ocurred to him, as strange as it was. The man was talking to the dog.  
  
The figure suddenly raised its hand and said something that got lost in the wind. The dog attacked. It sprang forward and knocked the figure to the ground.  
  
John stared, open-mouthed.  
  
Now's my chance to leave, he thought suddenly. He grabbed up his bicycle and turned to go but stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
A giant, twelve-foot long snake was staring him eye to eye.  
  
John's first reaction was to go for the knife at his belt, but it was too late.  
  
The snake was too quick. It bit him in the shoulder and John felt himself beginning to go numb. The deadly serpent whipped itself around him and soon had him completely wrapped in a strangle-hold from head to foot.  
  
John's vision was beginning to go foggy and he fought to stay conscious. He looked over to the two figures struggling with each other on the ground and found that the dog had disappeared. A gaunt man with black hair was in its place. He was pummeling his fists into the other dark figure, who was fighting back ferociously.  
  
John tried to call out for help but found that he could no longer speak. As he was struggling for breath, he watched as the snake slowly lowered its head level with his. It opened its mouth, exposing its long, poisonous fangs...and struck.   
  
  
  
  



	2. The Letter

Chapter Two  
The Letter  
  
  
  
Harry Potter sat at the dinner table of Number Four Privet Drive quietly eating his dinner. He stared thoughtfully out of the window, watching the sunset in the distance until...  
  
"BOY!" his uncle roared at him from across the table. "You acknowledge me when I speak to you!"  
  
Harry was jolted out of his daydreams and turned to stare at his uncle.  
  
Vernon Dursley was a large, beefy man. He had small beady eyes and his dark, slightly graying hair and bushy mustache did little to hide the ever-present scowl on his face.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said quickly, "I..."  
  
But Uncle Vernon overrode him. "You're going to Mrs. Figg's house tomorrow morning to help her clean up. She needed help and it's about time someone put your lazy rear to work. You've done absolutely nothing this summer except sit up in that room of yours, working on nothing else but that ruddy schoolwork."  
  
"Okay," said Harry, standing up, "but since I'll be busy tomorrow, I better write that letter to Sirius tonight then..." he trailed of.  
  
Uncle Vernon's eyes widened slightly and there was no mistaking the gasp that escaped from his aunt's lips.  
  
Aunt Petunia was a scrawny woman with a face very resemblant of a horse's. She sat there now with her eyes wide, her mouth open, and both hands to her face.  
  
Even his massive cousin Dudley began to look nervously back and forth between Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Dudley was Harry's age but at least three times his size. His porky face was topped with thick, blond hair and his meaty lips were now trembling.  
  
These were the effects that a simple mention of Sirius Black had on Harry's only living relatives.  
  
Sirius Black was Harry's godfather. He was also a convicted murder on the run, which Harry had made sure the Dursleys were well-aware of. He kept in contact with Sirius by writing him letters and letting him know how he was doing. He had conveniently "forgotten" to mention to the Dursleys that Sirius was also innocent.  
  
"Well," sputtered Uncle Vernon, "if you have schoolwork you have to do, then I'll just tell Mrs. Figg you can't do it..." Uncle Vernon was now looking extremely flustered and his mustache was twitching nervously.  
  
"Oh, no," said Harry calmly. "I'll do it. I mean after all, you already told her I would. I've been bored anyway." He quickly turned and left the kitchen before any of the Dursleys could see the broad smile that now stretched across his face.  
  
Harry quickly bounded up the stairs, in a considerably lighter mood, and opened the door to his bedroom. His room could not have been a sharper contrast to the rest of the dull, orderly, and utterly boring Number 4 Privet Drive.  
  
A large, white snowy owl sat beside her cage on Harry's desk, looking up and hooting softly at Harry in greeting. A ver fine, well-cared for, and expensive-looking broomstick lay on his bedspread surrounded by the contents of his broomstick servicing kit. The floor was littered with large books with names such as Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, Dragons: Monsters or Pets?, and A Guide to Quidditch in England. There were posters above his bed of players dressed in orange robes on flying broomsticks that actually zoomed around in the pictures. But none of these things seemed strange or unnatural to Harry. Harry Potter was a wizard.  
  
Harry walked over to his bed and began to put his broomstick servicing kit away.  
  
The broomstick was one of Harry's most prized possessions. It was a Firebolt, the best broomstick in the world and had been a gift from Sirius. Hedwig, Harry's owl, watched him gather up his schoolbooks from the floor and stuff them into the trunk at the foot of his bed.  
  
Still grinning about the Dursleys' reactions to the mention of Sirius, Harry sat down at his desk and pulled out a quill and fresh roll of parchment. It was about time that Harry should write to Sirius anyway, but before he could begin, there was a tap at the window and Harry saw a brown barn owl with a letter clutched in its beak, hovering outside.  
  
Again, this might have seemed strange and shocking to a Muggle (an unmagical person) but not to a witch or wizard. The wizarding world used Owl Post as a means of communication. Most witches or wizards either owned or had access to an owl which would deliver letters for them.  
  
Harry hurried to the window and flung it open. The owl swooped in and landed on his bed. Harry took the letter from its beak and began to open it. The letter inside had been written in a hasty scrawl that Harry recognized immediately.  
  
  
  
Harry-  
Although I don't like to worry you about things you can't control, matters have changed. Last night one of Voldemort's Death Eaters showed up near Privet Drive. Luckily the protection that Dumbledore has put in place around you stopped him before he could reach you. Even though no harm was done, I am telling you this, Harry, because you must keep your eyes open even at the Dursleys'. If there's ever the slightest hint of danger or you see anything unusual, let me know.  
Voldemort has been very busy these past few months and I fear dark times are ahead. But Dumbledore and the rest of us are working hard against him. I'll rest easier when you're back in the wizarding world in a few weeks, but until then, be careful.  
Sirius  
  
  
  
Harry looked up and saw that the barn owl was sitting beside Hedwig now and was helping itself to her water. Hedwig was staring distastefully at the other owl as it carelessly splashed water out of the bowl.  
  
A Death Eater here on Privet Drive? Harry's mind thought wildly. The possibility didn't even seem real. He just couldn't picture one of Lord Voldemort's supporters walking past the neat, organized houses lining Privet Drive. Especially in their long, dark hooded robes and faceless masks. Harry shook the image away quickly. It was oddly unsettling. But...  
  
...The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were appearing. All of them hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward...  
  
Harry forced himself to snap out of the flashback and found that he had gone suddenly cold and was trembling slightly.  
  
It had only been a couple months since that terrible night in the graveyard. The night Harry had been unexpectedly transported from the safety of the school to that horrible, deathly place...The night Harry had seen a fellow Hogwarts student murdered first-hand...The night Harry had seen Lord Voldemort rise again...The night Harry had barely escaped alive.  
  
Harry still shuddered at the memory and continued to wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking, as nightmares of large, poisonous snakes; high, cold laughs; blinding, green lights; and the cold, dead eyes of Cedric Diggory haunted him in his sleep.  
  
Harry sat there on his bed, trembling, staring at his pale reflection in the wardrobe mirror. A young man of fifteen with unruly black hair, round glasses, bright green eyes, and a peculiar lightning-shaped scar on his forehead stared back at him. It wasn't easy for Harry to think of Lord Voldemort, especially considering that the Dark Lord was the reason Harry no longer had any parents.  
  
Harry had been a year old when Voldemort had showed up one night at the Potters' house. The Dark Lord had been steadily gaining power for eleven years and was at the peak of his reign of terror. One of Harry's father's closest friends betrayed their location to Voldemort, and the Dark Lord arrived at Godric's Hollow on Halloween night. Voldemort forced his entrance and as Harry's mother, Lily, tried to flee with the baby Harry, James Potter, Harry's father, bravely tried to fend off the Dark Lord. Voldemort killed him and proceeded to to go after Harry and his mother. Lily refused to hand Harry over to the him, so Voldemort killed her. But the evil wizard, who had murdered countless witches and wizards in the past decade, performed the killing curse upon the baby Harry only to have it rebound back upon himself. Clinging to life with his powers destroyed, Voldemort fled. Little Harry was left only with the lightning-shaped scar upon his forehead, the mark of the failed curse, but Voldemort had been defeated, the eleven-year reign of terror ended, and Harry Potter was famous.  
  
Harry examined his scar in the mirror, running his finger over it gently. He had also discovered in the past four years that his scar would burn as though it were on fire whenever Voldemort was near or feeling particularly murderous. It had ached several times over the past few weeks, which Harry had only come to expect with the return of the Dark Lord...  
  
...Then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron...  
  
Again, Harry forced the memory away, taking a deep breath.  
  
Just this past year, toward the end of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry had witnessed Lord Voldemort's return. An international competition between two other magical schools had taken place at Hogwarts during the year. One champion from each school was selected to represent their school in the tournament. Harry's name, unknowingly to him, was entered by one of Voldemort's undercover Death Eaters and he was selected along with Cedric Diggory to rpresent Hogwarts. The four champions made their way through the rigorous tasks until the third task, a maze filled with an assortment of magical creatures and curses. Cedric and Harry both reached the Triwizard Cup in the center of the maze, but as they touched the it, they were whisked away to an eerie graveyard only to find Wormtail, loyal servant to Lord Voldemort, waiting for them along with the feeble and powerless Dark Lord. Cedric was immediately murdered and Wormtail instantly began the ceremony of restoring Voldemort to his body. Using the bones of Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord's Muggle father, Wormtail's flesh, and Harry's blood, Voldemort was returned to full strength. But had escaped, only to arrive back at Hogwarts to a crowd of shocked, disbelieving students and teachers, unable to believe the Dark Lord was back. Only a select few could be convinced: Albus Dumbledore, the wise, noble, and well-respected Hogwarts headmaster being one of them. When it became clear that Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, did not believe Harry's tale and would do nothing to fight against Voldemort, for fear of destroying the wizard community's hard-earned but fragile peace, Dumbledore immediately took up the fight with the help of his few, loyal supporters. And so the war, thought to be over fourteen years ago, had begun anew...  
  
But Harry, forced to live with the Dursleys over the summers, was isolated from the magical world and knew little of what was going on. The only news he received was what was passed on to him through letters from his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger; the friendly half-giant Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid; or Sirius.  
  
But being isolated from everything also had its advantages. Not having to face the reality that the most powerful Dark Wizard ever known was on the loose and gaining power everyday, being one of them. Not to say that Harry didn't wonder and worry about his friends, but since the Dursleys refused to discuss or even acknowledge the existence of magic, it made the wizarding world and its troubles seem much more distant and less real.  
  
But that didn't make the problems go away, Harry thought to himself as he glanced over at his bedside clock. Surprised at how late it was and remembering he had to get up early the next morning, he took off his glasses and climbed into bed. Sirius' letter will have to wait, he suddenly remembered. Trying to force all thoughts of Voldemort and his Death Eaters out of mind, Harry rolled over and closed his eyes. But it was still a long time before he finally drifted off to an uneasy sleep.   



	3. Mrs Figg

Chapter Three  
Mrs. Figg  
  
  
  
"WAKE UP, BOY!!"  
  
Harry jerked awake as Uncle Vernon stuck his scowling face into Harry's room, making sure he was awake.  
  
"Time to go to work!" Uncle Vernon roared. He gave Harry a fierce stare, as though warning him not to go back to sleep, and left.  
  
"About time you started doing something, you lazy, good-for-nothin..." Harry heard Uncle Vernon trailing off as he thundered his way down the hall and stairs to breakfast.  
  
Harry yawned and rolled over, rubbing his eyes. He had had a dream last night but was having a hard time remembering it. He put his hands to his head, trying hard to think...  
  
He had been standing outside a large, old house with Dumbledore. The headmaster had gone inside but no sooner had he done so than the house transformed into a giant snake with a pale face and red slits for eyes. A giant bird had swooped down and picked Harry up, bearing him away from the serpent. He had looked up and recognized the bird as Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's pet phoenix. They were soaring through the air but the snake was rapidly closing the gap. It had opened its mouth wide to strike...and Harry had woken up.  
  
Harry sat there in his bed, turning the dream over in his head, but the details were quickly slipping away and he was getting hungry. Pushing the dream from his thoughts, Harry put on his glasses, quickly got dressed, and headed down to breakfast.  
  
Aunt Petunia was busy at the stove, frying some bacon when Harry entered the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was busy reading the newspaper at the table, with his half-eaten plate of bacon in front of him. Dudley was eating more than his fair share of bacon yet he wasn't just shovelling it in like he would have been a year ago.  
  
In fact, as much as it pained Harry to admit it, Dudley had actually lost a considerable amount of weight since last year and was still losing it at a rapid pace. Harry remembered the disastrous diet plan his aunt and uncle had put Dudley on last year. It had failed miserably. But something no one could predict had finally motivated Dudley to start shedding some of those extra pounds. He had found a girlfriend.  
  
Dudley had come home from school at the beginning of the summer to announce proudly that he had a girlfriend. His parents had been thrilled. Aunt Petunia, after seeing the pictures Dudley had brought home of her, had simply exclaimed that she was the most beautiful young woman that she had ever set eyes on, while Uncle Vernon proclaimed Dudley a regular ladies' man. While neither one of these descriptions was too accurate in Harry's opinion, he was still amazed and in a state of slight shock that Dudley had managed to even get a girlfriend.  
  
Her name was Patricia, and after one glance at one of her pictures, Harry realized that she and Dudley were the perfect fit for each other. The first thought that struck Harry was that she looked remarkably like a hippopotamus. She had a very big mouth that was curled in a snarl, exposing two large, widely-spaced front teeth. Her round face was surrounded by handfuls of golden curls, and her nose was wide and flat.  
  
But he has a girlfriend- the thought echoed inside Harry's head. It wasn't as though Harry was actually jealous of Dudley...It was just that Harry didn't have a girlfriend...But not that Harry wanted that thing for a girlfriend...But she obviously made Dudley happy...  
  
Harry cleared his head of those thoughts as he sat down at the table, waiting for his breakfast. He had Ron and Hermione and that was all he needed for now. Besides, he and Ron had both agreed that having a girlfriend wasn't that big of a deal anyway...  
  
Harry sat patiently waiting for Aunt Petunia to notice him and bring him a plate of bacon, but after ten minutes, when it became apparent that she wasn't going to do any such thing, he got up to get the bacon himself.  
  
"What are you doing?!" Aunt Petunia screeched at him. "Get away from my stove! I'll get your bacon, you impatient, ungrateful, little runt!"  
  
"S-sorry," stammered Harry, "I was just-"  
  
"Quiet! I don't care! Now sit down at the table before I give your bacon to Dudley. See how he knows to stay in his seat? That's a good boy, Duddykins, just let mommy cook the food and if you wait patiently, mommy'll take care of you," Aunt Petunia cooed as she served Dudley another half plate of bacon. She dumped the rest onto Harry's plate and shot him a nasty look before she turned back to the stove again.  
  
Dudley sat smiling smugly across the table from Harry, but Harry didn't care. He was used to it by now, after fourteen years of this kind of treatment.  
  
He quietly began to eat his breakfast but no sooner had he taken his first bite than Uncle Vernon put down his newspaper and looked at Harry.  
  
"I told Mrs. Figg that you'd be there in fifteen minutes," his uncle growled.  
  
A bit taken aback, Harry realized that he would have to leave immediately to get there in time. "Thanks for telling me sooner," Harry muttered as he stuffed the remaining bacon into his mouth.  
  
"WHAT?!" snapped Uncle Vernon. "What did you say to me?"  
  
"I said that I better get going then," Harry replied innocently.  
  
Uncle Vernon gave him one last scowl then returned to reading his newspaper.  
  
Harry rushed upstairs to brush his teeth and grab his shoes and within two minutes, he was out the door and hurrying to Mrs. Figg's house.  
  
Mrs. Figg was a mad old lady who lived two streets away. She used to babysit Harry when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon took Dudley out for his birthday, but it had been over five years since the last time Harry had been forced to stay with her. Her house smelled strongly of cabbage and she had always made Harry look at pictures of all the cats she had ever owned. Harry had hated it there.  
  
But just this past year Harry had been reminded twice of Mrs. Figg, and oddly enough, both instances had occurred in the wizarding world. The first time had been when he was at the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys. The magical tent that they had slept in had been strangely reminiscent of Mrs. Figg's house. It had been organized in the same format and even possessed the strong smell of cats. The second occasion had been at Hogwarts. Harry had returned to school after his escape from Voldemort and had been resting in the hospital wing. Cornelius Fudge had just stormed out and Dumbledore was giving out instructions to his supporters. He had told Sirius to start alerting loyal witches and wizards and the name Arabella Figg had come up. At the time, Harry had been in no condition to think twice about it. But the thought had crossed his mind a few times over the summer, and he had given it some consideration.  
  
Harry found it strange that he had been reminded-twice-of her in the past year when he had been in the magical world, and he was beginning to think that maybe it wasn't a coincidence. He had no idea whether or not Mrs. Figg's first name was Arabella or if she was indeed a witch, but he was hoping that by the end of the day he would have some answers.  
  
Harry looked up from his thoughts to find that he had arrived. Mrs. Figg's house was an older two-story dark brick building that looked as though it had seen better days. The lawn was a bit overgrown and the sidewalk and driveway had begun to erode away. Harry also noticed as he drew nearer that the front window had been smashed and the front door was falling off its hinges.  
  
Harry reached what was left of the front door and was about to knock when a little old lady poked her head out through the broken window.  
  
"Hello, boy," she greeted Harry from the window.  
  
Mrs. Figg was a small, elderly woman. Her gray hair was tied up in a bun atop her head. Her gray eyes sat behind a pair of square spectacles, and the thin line that was her mouth was now curved into a small smile.  
  
"I hope you'll excuse me," she began, "but my door is temporarily out of service."  
  
Harry gave a polite laugh but after he saw the smile disappear from Mrs. Figg's face, he stopped quickly.  
  
She stood there staring at Harry, as though seeing him for the first time. Unsure of what he should do, Harry was about to say something to break the awkward silence when Mrs. Figg began talking again.  
  
"Yes, well I suppose you should get to work. There's a lot to be done. Come along now," and she beckoned him through the shattered window.  
  
After a slight hesitation, Harry climbed through.  
  
He found himself in an ornate, but very dusty dining room. All of the furniture looked very old and there were two large, fluffy cats sitting in armchairs. There was also a very strong smell of cabbage.  
  
"Did your aunt and uncle tell you why I needed help today?" Mrs. Figg asked.  
  
"No," he replied, "why?"  
  
But again to Harry's surprise, Mrs. Figg simply stared at him, not bothering to answer. After a few moments, she turned and made her way wordlessly into the kitchen.  
  
Harry stood there, slightly taken aback, the cabbage stench filling his nostrils, as the two cats watched him. He was beginning to regret that he had ever come.  
  
Harry followed Mrs. Figg into the kitchen to find her hastily cleaning up two plates from the table. She looked startled to find Harry standing there watching her and quickly stuffed the dishes into the sink.  
  
"Follow me," she said with a note of impatience in her voice, and Harry quickly obliged.  
  
She led him out to the back porch where a new door and window were leaning against the house.  
  
"These are for the front of the house. As you saw, the door and window both need replacing." Harry listened, expecting her to continue. "So that's it," she added shortly, "Get to it. Let me know when you're finished."  
  
Harry watched her go back into the house and gave a small sigh. Somehow he just couldn't picture Mrs. Figg being a witch anymore.  
  
For the next hour and a half, Harry was hard at work installing the new door and window. It was hot out and he began to sweat very heavily. He was also very thirsty, but he didn't dare ask Mrs. Figg for something to drink. Finally, job completed, Harry went inside to tell Mrs. Figg he was done.  
  
"Mrs. Figg?" he called from the entryway.  
  
No answer.  
  
Harry took a few steps further down the hall.  
  
"Mrs. Figg?" he called again.  
  
Still no answer.  
  
Harry started down the hall toward the kitchen but was distracted about halfway there. A door to his left stood ajar and a faint blue glow came from within the dark room.  
  
Curious, Harry peered up and down the hall to make sure Mrs. Figg wasn't there. The hall was empty except for a black cat at one end, so Harry crept into the dark room.  
  
The cabbage stench inside was twice as worse as anywhere else in the house, and Harry immediately covered his nose and mouth with his shirt to try to stifle the overpowering smell.  
  
The windowless room would have been completely pitch-black if it hadn't been for the bright blue light coming from the mantelpiece across the room. Harry moved in for a closer look of the light source.  
  
It was a small statue of a knight. The knight had been carved out of stone, yet the very rock itself was emitting the strange light. The figure was dressed in a full suit of armor. It carried a large shield on its back and a sword at its belt. And what looked like, to Harry's surprise, a wand hanging next to its sword.  
  
It was only then that Harry realized there was another door in the room. He turned and saw it standing ajar, leading down into darkness. It seemed to Harry as though the cabbage smell was coming from down there.  
  
A basement, Harry realized as he began to make his way over to the stairs.  
  
A loud bang stopped Harry dead in his tracks.  
  
Mrs. Figg had flung open the door leading to the hallway and stood there now, her silhouette framed in the doorway.  
  
"I think it's time to go, Harry," she managed in a strained voice.  
  
Harry could tell that she was extremely upset, and he realized that he needed to leave immediately.  
  
"S-sorry," he stammered as he squeezed past her out into the hall. The stare she was giving him sent a chill down his spine. "I-I better go."  
  
And he practically fled the house. He rushed down the hall, out the front door, leapt from the porch, and didn't pause for breath until he was halfway down the street.  
  
Gasping for breath and grabbing a stitch in his side, Harry stopped and looked back at the old house. A face was watching him from an upstairs window, but it wasn't Mrs. Figg. It was a younger woman with long, blonde hair.  
  
Startled by the sudden appearance of the woman, Harry began to run again and this time didn't stop until he had arrived back at Number 4 Privet Drive.  
  
Harry scrambled inside the front door, slamming it behind him.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL?!?" he heard Uncle Vernon roar from the kitchen.  
  
Harry, breathless and collapsed on the floor, watched his uncle storm into the hallway. Uncle Vernon's large face turned a dark shade of red and he began breathing very heavily when he saw who it was who had made the racket.  
  
"What the hell are you doing, boy?!" his uncle repeated, staring scornfully down at Harry.  
  
"Wh-why," Harry gasped, "did Mrs. F-Figg need my help today?" The thought had escaped him before he could hold it back.  
  
"Something about a break-in a couple days ago," Uncle Vernon growled, a bit taken aback. "Why?!?" he snarled, suddenly suspicious. "That is where you went isn't it? You haven't been sneaking around all morning with any of your crackpot friends, have you? WAIT!! You get back here and listen to me when I'm talking to you! I'M NOT THROUGH WITH YOU, BOY!"  
  
But Harry had had enough for one day. Ignoring his uncle's howls of fury, he quietly made his way up to his room. Feeling overwhelmed at everything that had just happened to him, Harry collapsed on his bed. In moments, he was fast asleep.  
  
  
  
  



	4. The Missing Letter

Chapter Four  
The Missing Letter  
  
  
  
For the next several days Harry did his best to avoid the Dursleys. He stayed up in his room, rarely coming down for meals, preferring to live instead on the leftover birthday cake sent to him by his friends. Uncle Vernon was still furious with him and Harry didn't want to anger him any further. But he had other reasons for wanting to be alone.  
  
He had a lot to think about ever since his visit to Mrs. Figg's. Her behavior that day had been very peculiar, and Harry was almost certain that he had angered her. Of course he was sorry about it, but he also felt that she had unnecessarily overreacted.  
  
He couldn't help wondering about the face he had seen in the window either. He had always thought that Mrs. Figg lived alone. Never before had he seen anyone else at her house, whether visiting or otherwise.  
  
The blue statue in the dark room also intrigued him. He had never seen anything like it before, at least not in the Muggle world. Maybe it's magical, he thought.  
  
But that didn't make sense once he thought about it. Why would Mrs. Figg have something magical in her house? Maybe if she was a witch...But Harry had strong reason to doubt that. There didn't seem to be the slightest bit of magic about her. She was a very practical woman. And besides, if Mrs. Figg really was a witch, then why didn't she just magically repair the window and door herself? She was more than old enough to use magic in the Muggle world. The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry wouldn't apply to her in the least.  
  
But Harry had another worry, one that was completely unexpected. School started in less than two weeks and he had yet to receive his letter from Hogwarts.  
  
Every year students received a brief letter of introduction that also included their list of school supplies about a month before term began. But Harry's letter hadn't come. This was greatly troubling to him because the start of school was always the lone bright spot in an otherwise dismal and depressing summer.  
  
Harry finally decided to write to Ron to see if he had gotten his letter. Two days later, he received Ron's reply.  
  
  
  
Dear Harry,  
You haven't gotten your letter yet? That's weird, I got mine ages ago. Mum took us to Diagon Alley yesterday to pick up our school stuff. Fred and George even bought me some new dress robes.  
They've been working very hard up in their room lately, and I think Mum's just about given up on them. After all, it's their last year at Hogwarts, and I don't think she's too keen on them joining the Ministry anymore.  
Dad's been really busy lately. Sometimes a few witches and wizards will drop by to talk to him privately but he never tells the rest of us anything.  
I don't know what to tell you about your letter. Maybe you should write Dumbledore and let him know. I'm sure it was just some sort of mix-up. I'll see you September 1.  
Ron  
  
  
  
Harry put the letter down, not comforted at all. Ron had received his letter, yet he had not. What was going on?  
  
He decided to write to Sirius. Sirius would know what to do. Harry pulled out a sheet of parchment and quill and began to write.  
  
  
  
Dear Sirius,   
I got your last letter and I've been watchful, but things have been pretty normal here on Privet Drive.  
The thing is though, I haven't gotten my letter from Hogwarts for next year yet. Shouldn't I have gotten it by now? I mean, I'm not gonna have time to get my school stuff (not that the Dursleys would actually take me to go get it anyway). I was just wondering if maybe you knew what was going on. Hope to see you soon.  
Harry  
  
  
  
Harry folded the letter and attached it to Hedwig. She waited patiently until Harry had finished then took off into the starry night. Harry watched her go then took off his glasses and climbed into bed, but it was still awhile until he drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Harry waited for Sirius' reply, but it didn't come the next day, the day after, or the whole next week. Soon, it was August 31, the day before the start of term and there had still been no reply from Sirius.  
  
It was in the lowest spirits that Harry had ever been before the first day of school. With a heavy heart, Harry realized that he still needed a ride to the train station the next day and decided to ask the Dursleys that evening.  
  
Uncle Vernon was in the living room watching the news with Aunt Petunia when Harry entered.  
  
"...still more reports of mysterious disappearances..." the man on the screen reported.  
  
"Umm...Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
Neither he nor Aunt Petunia made the slightest indication that they had heard him. Harry continued anyway.  
  
"Well, I, uh, I kind of need a ride to the train station tomorrow. For school, you know."  
  
His aunt and uncle both continued to ignore him.  
  
"Uncle Vernon...?"  
  
"It's taken care of," his uncle growled shortly, not taking his eyes off the television.  
  
"Oh," said Harry awkwardly, "Okay, well, thanks." And he went back upstairs.  
  
Shocked at Uncle Vernon's answer but definitely not complaining, Harry began to get his school things ready. It didn't take long. Once his Firebolt, wand, robes, and other wizard stuff were packed into his trunk, he sat down at his empty desk, looking at Hedwig's empty cage.  
  
It had been almost two weeks since Hedwig had left to deliver Sirius' letter, and she was still not back. Harry gave a deep sigh. There wasn't anything he could do about it and the morning was going to come very early so Harry decided to try to go to sleep. After one last look out the window, Harry took off his glasses and climbed into bed. Maybe it was because of all the stress he had been under lately, but Harry was asleep within moments.  
  
In what only seemed like minutes later, Harry was awakened by someone pulling his hand. He had had a nightmare. In it, he had arrived at Hogwarts only to find Professor McGonagall waiting at the door. She was making every student show her their Hogwarts letter, and when Harry had told her he had never received one, she had told him he had to leave and put him back on the train to the Dursleys'.  
  
Now, Harry groggily opened his eyes to see a snowy owl standing on his bed with her beak closed around his hand, trying to wake him.  
  
"Hedwig!" Harry cried, sitting up and quickly putting his glasses back on.  
  
He retrieved the letter from her beak, and she immediately flew over to the desk and drank deeply from her water bowl.  
  
Harry hurriedly unfolded the letter and began to read:  
  
  
  
Harry-  
I'm sorry it took so long. We've been really busy the past couple weeks, and the fact is, I didn't even get your letter until yesterday.  
That is pretty odd that you never received your Hogwarts letter. I mentioned it to Dumbledore and he seems just as perplexed. He said he knows for certain that it reached Privet Drive, but what happened to it after that, he doesn't know. He just assumed that you had received it.  
But the truth is, it doesn't really matter. So I hope you haven't been worrying about it. I'll take care of your school supplies if you need me to. I'm counting on seeing you tomorrow so until then, get a good night's rest and be careful.  
Sirius  
  
  
  
Harry lay back, feeling more relieved than he had in weeks. Everything was going to be okay. Even though he felt a bit stupid for worrying about the letter as much as he did, he was too happy at the moment to let that bother him as he prepared to go to sleep once again. Within seconds, he was fast asleep and resting more soundly than he had in weeks.  



	5. The Daily Prophet

Chapter Five  
The Daily Prophet  
  
  
  
It was half past six when Hedwig woke Harry with her loud hooting. He put on his glasses and got dressed quickly.  
  
"It's about time to go, Hedwig," Harry told her.  
  
Looking as anxious as Harry felt, she immediately hopped into her cage. Harry swung the door shut behind her then went downstairs for breakfast.  
  
As he approached the kitchen, he heard low, worried voices coming from inside.  
  
"...again this morning, Vernon. Don't you think it's strange that she suddenly shows up again after all these years?"  
  
"How can you be sure it's her, Petunia? If it's really been almost twenty years..."  
  
"It's her, Vernon!" Aunt Petunia snapped. I'd know that wretched face anywhere. Goodness knows as much as I saw her. Not that I had much choice..."  
  
"Well I don't think there's any need to worry yet. Just as long as she doesn't come around here..."  
  
Harry chose that moment to enter the kitchen. Aunt Petunia shrieked and dropped the skillet she had been holding. Uncle Vernon jumped up, glaring hard at Harry.  
  
"Have you been eavesdropping, boy?!" he roared, his eyes bulging slightly.  
  
"No," Harry replied innocently, fighting to suppress a grin.  
  
Uncle Vernon continued to glare suspiciously at him as Aunt Petunia cleaned up the eggs from the floor.  
  
"Where's Dudley?" Harry asked, noticing the considerable absence of his massive cousin.  
  
"Golfing," Uncle Vernon growled, returning to his newspaper.  
  
Golfing had been another healthy change for Dudley. Before this past summer, the most exercise that he had gotten was walking back and forth between the refrigerator and television. But he had come home from school this year, determined that he was going to be a golfer. Uncle Vernon had bought him a brand new set of clubs and ever since, Dudley had started going out golfing with his buddies a few times a week. Harry had been more than a little surprised, to say the least.  
  
Harry sat down at the table but had just started on the eggs Aunt Petunia had set in front of him when there was a knock at the front door. Harry glanced up at his aunt and uncle but both looked as though they had been expecting it. Aunt Petunia hurried to answer it. Harry heard the door open then voices from the hall.  
  
"Good morning, Gretchen," came Aunt Petunia's voice. Another softer voice replied with words Harry couldn't hear.  
  
"Yes, he's ready. I'll go get him."  
  
Aunt Petunia came back into the kitchen.  
  
"Your ride's here," she snarled at Harry.  
  
Ride? Harry stared blankly back at her.  
  
"I didn't stutter, you ungrateful brat! Now get upstairs and get your stuff before she leaves without you, because we're sure as hell not going to take you."  
  
Harry, still puzzled, went upstairs to his room. He had assumed that the Dursleys were going to give him a ride to the train station, but he figured he should have known better than for them to do something that generous for him. After checking to make sure he had everything packed, Harry dragged Hedwig and his trunk back downstairs.  
  
The entrance was deserted.  
  
"She's waiting in the car," Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen.  
  
"Well, okay then, see ya," Harry called to the Dursleys. Then with his trunk and Hedwig, he walked outside.  
  
A very old car Harry didn't recognize sat in the driveway. From where he stood, he couldn't see who was driving through the dark windows. With a slight shrug, he stuffed his belongings into the open, waiting trunk. After making sure it was closed tightly, he climbed into the passenger's seat and looked over to find...  
  
Mrs. Figg.  
  
"Hello, Harry," she greeted.  
  
Harry was too shocked to answer. And it must have shown.  
  
"Well, don't look so pleased," she added coldly, and after putting the car in gear, they were off.  
  
"No, I-I just didn't think-" Harry stammered.  
  
"I know what you were thinking," Mrs. Figg interrupted. "You're wondering why this bitch is taking you to the train station."  
  
Harry stared at her, shocked. Mrs. Figg gave a humorless laugh.  
  
"Don't worry, boy. I don't like this any more than you."  
  
But something inside Harry snapped, and he was suddenly offended.  
  
"Then why are you doing it? If you think you're just wasting your time, why are you doing it?"  
  
Mrs. Figg looked over at Harry in mild surprise, as though not expecting him to answer back.  
  
"It's a favor to someone," she answered shortly.  
  
They sat in silence for a while. Harry stared out the window, hardly believing what was happening. This is unreal, he thought. Any minute he would wake up and realize it had all been a dream.  
  
"I knew your mother, dear," Mrs. Figg said into the silence, causing Harry to look at her in surprise. "You remind me a lot of her. And of course, that's where you got your eyes from. You have your mother's eyes."  
  
"Y-you knew my mother?" Harry asked in disbelief.  
  
"Why of course," Mrs. Figg looked over at Harry, her face expressionless. "You have her temper and sharp tongue too."  
  
Harry, his disbelief quickly turning to anger, stared coldly back at Mrs. Figg. "You're lying," he said evenly. "You never knew my mother."  
  
Mrs. Figg gave another sharp, humorless laugh. "You think I'm lying? You don't think I knew your mother? Well, I don't give a damn whether you believe me or not! But I don't want you having any false ideas about your parents. They weren't angels, boy. Far from it. Especially your mother. But I don't expect anyone's told you about that. I'm sure Dumbledore thinks your precious ears are too young to hear the truth. And of course, your parents were well-liked. But most people only saw their glittering exteriors. Didn't bother to look at what was underneath." Mrs. Figg was staring at Harry with something close to hate now, but he defiantly held her gaze. "Your parents didn't care who they had to walk over, as long as they got their way. And your mother, that dirty, traitorous bi-"  
  
"SHUT UP!!" roared suddenly roared. "I don't believe you! Just shut up! You're lying!"  
  
Mrs. Figg was now looking at Harry with cold amusement. "Listen to you. Defending your parents as though you actually knew who they were. You never them, boy. Did you hear me? You never knew your parents!"  
  
"No," Harry muttered, shaking his head almost violently, willing the thoughts to go away. A rising fury was burning inside him now. But something else was there too. Fear. A cold, chilling fear that everything Mrs. Figg was saying was true.  
  
But it couldn't be true, Harry thought fervently. It just couldn't. His parents had never done anything wrong...but another cold realization had dawned on him. Mrs. Figg was right. He had never known his parents. There was no way for him to know what they had been like. He had only been a year old when they were killed.  
  
Surely Dumbledore would have told him if any of it were true...but Harry knew immediately that was wrong. Something came floating back to Harry from four years before, when he had just been finishing up his first year at Hogwarts...  
  
..."I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day...put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older...I know you hate to hear this...when you are ready, you will know."...  
  
The words had been Dumbledore's response to one of Harry's questions about the night his parents had been killed. And once again, he was left feeling as though he wished he knew more about his and his parents' pasts.  
  
Fighting back the urge to shout back at Mrs. Figg, Harry forced himself to look out the window, his emotions turmoiling inside him. He couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it...  
  
The rest of the trip continued in silence and soon, they were at King's Cross Station. No sooner had the car stopped, then Harry muttered a quick thanks and was hurriedly getting his stuff out of the trunk of the car. But just as he was turning to go inside the station, he heard Mrs. Figg call out to him.  
  
"There's something back here for you," she called.  
  
Suspicious, Harry made his way cautiously back to the car, where Mrs. Figg was pointing at the backseat. He opened the door and saw two large shopping bags inside. But it was the writing on the sides of the bags that caught his attention. In big, gold letters they read: DIAGON ALLEY. It was his school supplies.  
  
"Don't thank me," Mrs. Figg snapped as Harry looked at her in surprise and gratitude. "I didn't have anything to do with it."  
  
Harry took the bags from the car and as soon as he had closed the door, Mrs. Figg left.  
  
He made his way back over to his trunk, fetched a rolling cart for his things, then along with Hedwig, he entered the station.  
  
Once inside, he made his way through the crowds to platforms nine and ten, ignoring the strange looks he and Hedwig were receiving. The Hogwarts Express left from Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It was hidden to Muggles, but the secret to finding it was to simply walk through the barrier separating platforms nine and ten.  
  
Harry reached the barrier at a quarter to eleven, fifteen minutes until the train left. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, Harry began to walk casually toward the barrier, not slowing down when he reached it, and...he was through.  
  
The scarlet Hogwarts Express sat waiting, steam billowing from the engine. The platform was packed full of people, witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes. Hundreds of owls hooted at each other through the soft mist. Students were saying good-bye to their families and climbing on the train.  
  
Harry made his way through the chattering crowd, keeping an eye out for Ron or Hermione. He passed an anxious-looking group of younger children, presumably first years, all chattering excitedly. Another group of students, a bit older, were all marveling over a new, sleek broomstick a brown-haired boy claimed was his.  
  
"Wow, Austin!" exclaimed a blond-haired girl. "Where'd you get it?"  
  
"My dad gave it to me for my birthday," Austin replied, blushing slightly.  
  
"That is wicked, man," a boy with a buzz-cut proclaimed.  
  
"Harry!" a voice yelled, causing him to look away from the conversation.  
  
He looked up to find Seamus Finnigan, a sandy-haired boy also in the fifth year, and his friend Dean Thomas hurrying toward him.  
  
"Hey, man," Seamus greeted, smiling, "what've you been up to this summer?"  
  
"Not much," Harry replied.  
  
"Have they made you a prefect?" Dean asked eagerly.  
  
"Oh, yeah, they choose prefects this year," Harry remembered. "Well, I don't know. I never got my letter this summer."  
  
"You didn't get your letter?" Seamus repeated.  
  
"That's weird," Dean said.  
  
"Yeah, I know, but Dumbledore said not to worry about it so I guess it's not that big of a deal."  
  
"Maybe they made you a prefect and you just don't know it since you didn't get your letter," Dean suggested hopefully.  
  
"Maybe," Harry said.  
  
"Well, we better go and find ourselves a seat," Seamus said. "See ya around, Harry."  
  
Harry continued to make his way through the crowd and had almost reached the train when another voice that he recognized immediately called out to him.  
  
Hermione Granger, a broad smile on her face, was running toward him. Her bushy brown hair had been tied up at the back of her head although a few stray curls were hanging down across her face. Harry realized, quite suddenly, how pretty she looked.  
  
As Hermione reached him, she dropped her trunk and flung her arms around him.  
  
"Oh, Harry," she said into his shoulder, "I'm so glad you're okay."  
  
"What?" said Harry, slightly confused but smiling all the same. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"  
  
"It's just that with You-Know-Who back and all and I haven't talked to you in so long. I thought maybe..." she trailed off.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said, straightening her up to look at her. "You didn't really think something had happened to me, did you?"  
  
"Well, no, it's just that...after what happened to Cedric last year...no one's really safe anymore, and...what if He had found a way to get to you at the Dursleys?"  
  
"Well, if that happened, they should wouldn't put up much resistance," Harry said laughing and causing Hermione to smile. "But here I am. And besides, I've got you to keep an eye on me now."  
  
They stood there smiling at each other until Hermione seemed to suddenly remember something. "Oh, Harry, I almost forgot!" She reached into her pocket and dug out a shiny silver badge with the letter "P" on it. "They made me a prefect!"  
  
"Wow, Hermione," Harry said, sounding impressed, "that's really a-"  
  
"And you are too!" she interrupted.  
  
"What?" Harry said, surprised.  
  
"Yeah, didn't you know?" she asked sounding confused. "It should've been in your letter."  
  
"Yeah, well..." Harry began but another voice interrupted him.  
  
"Harry! Hermione!"   
  
Both he and Hermione turned to look. A tall, thin boy with bright red hair and freckles was coming towards them. It was Ron.  
  
Harry noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Hermione nervously trying to fix her hair. It had slightly come out of place and she was frantically trying to tie it back up again.  
  
"Don't mention the prefect thing to Ron," she added to Harry out of the corner of her mouth as she quickly stuffed her badge back into her pocket. "He didn't get asked to be one."  
  
"Hey, Hermione," Ron greeted. "What's been going on, Harry?"  
  
"Not much," Harry replied, as managed a weak "hi". "What's been up at the Burrow?"  
  
"Oh, you know," Ron started in the most professional voice he could muster, "business as usual."  
  
Harry grinned back at him. "Yeah, I bet. I'm sure you're right in the middle of all that Ministry business." He gave Hermione a wink. "We know how important you are and all, Percy."  
  
"Hey," said Ron, faking a sudden look of seriousness. "I'm working on a proposal right now for the regulation and control of magical artifacts impoted from the republic of Gilbraltar. It'll change the world, it will. And perhaps you've heard of my legendary reports on cauldron thickness..."  
  
All three of them laughed.  
  
Percy Weasley was Ron's older brother who worked for the Ministry of Magic. Percy had been Head Boy when he graduated from Hogwarts two years ago. Although Harry was sure he meant well, Percy thought himself immensely important, was a bit fussy, and also devoted his entire life to his job. To say that Percy was the subject of many jokes would have been an understatement.  
  
The train whistle blew once and students began hurrying onto it to find their seats.  
  
"Come on," said Hermione, "or we'll be left behind."  
  
The three of them quickly heaved their trunks up the steps and jumped aboard, just as the train began to move. They stood there in the corridor, sweating slightly but grinning at each other, as the platform sped from view and forests began to appear through the windows.  
  
"I'll get us a compartment," said Ron as he disappeared into the back of the train.  
  
Harry noticed that Hermione looked considerably more relaxed after Ron left, but she turned quickly to Harry and lowered her voice.  
  
"I think we're supposed to sit up front, Harry," she whispered, looking up and down the corridor as though expecting Ron to suddenly appear again, "you know, with the other prefects."  
  
Harry looked at Hermione. "Well, you can do whatever you want, but I'm going to sit with Ron. Besides," he added, "I never got my letter, remember? As far as I'm supposed to know, I'm not a prefect yet."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. She stood there, looking as though she was torn between two things she desperately wanted to do. "Oh, all right," she finally said. "Save a seat for me too. I'll be there in a little while, but first I just want to check in with the other prefects. Make sure it's all right," and she hurried away to the front of the train.  
  
Ron returned a few minutes later. "Where's Hermione?" he asked immediately.  
  
"She went up front to check on something, I think," Harry said.  
  
"Oh...okay," said Ron, looking slightly disappointed. "Well there weren't any empty compartments, but Fred and George said that we could sit with them."  
  
Harry and Ron gathered up their luggage and began dragging it to the rear of the train. But before they reached the compartment, they heard a drawling voice behind them.  
  
"Well, if it ain't Potter and Weasley."  
  
Harry knew who it was even before he turned around.  
  
Draco Malfoy, flanked by his two cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, stood in the passageway. Malfoy was pale-skinned, whitish-blonde-haired, and about as pleasant as a large pile of dragon dung. Crabbe and Goyle were both enormous, nearly twice Harry's size, and stood there, flexing their powerful muscles menacingly, as though merely waiting for a reason to pound Harry and Ron through the train wall.  
  
"Your dad made the paper, Weasley," Malfoy sneered as he brandished a newspaper and tossed it to Ron. "Seems like he couldn't take the pressure anymore. Or," Malfoy's eyes glinted evilly, "maybe he just got tired of being stuck at the bottom."  
  
Ron didn't even glance at the paper but Harry took it from him, curious.  
  
It was The Daily Prophet, the wizard newspaper. On the front page of the paper was a picture of Ron's dad, who was looking around defiantly at the group of reporters who were surrounding him. Arthur Weasley was a tall, thin man with balding red hair. There was an article next to the photograph:  
  
  
  
MINISTRY WIZARD BAILS OUT  
  
Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office has never had what you'd call a clean record. Three years ago he was found in possession of an illegal flying car and just last year, he was involved in a highly embarrassing incident with Muggle policemen after attempting to assist the ex-Auror Mad-Eye Moody. After his latest stunts, the humiliated Weasley finally seems ready to resign.  
Recently, Weasley and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, have been trading fiery arguments about the way the Ministry is run. The fierce debate has been nothing but a distraction to the other hard-working witches and wizards.  
"I think everyone's glad to see him go," says Lucius Malfoy, a close friend and High Advisor to the Minister.  
The whole debate began about a month ago when the Minister appointed Malfoy as his High Advisor, a position that had been added to the Minister's staff that allowed him more input and opinion on important decisions.  
Weasley questioned Malfoy's appointment over more qualified witches and wizards. Fudge had responded that the statement was probably due to Mr. Weasley's frustration that he had failed to be promoted in his twenty-plus years at the Ministry.  
"It was totally unexpected," Fudge had said. "I guess he was just mad and jealous at the fact that Lucius had gotten the appointment while realizing he himself had yet to receive a promotion."  
Malfoy and Weasley have had their differences in the past. Three years ago, the two caused a disturbance in Flourish and Blotts when Weasley had suddenly and unexpectedly attacked Malfoy.  
"I don't know why he did it," confessed Malfoy, when asked about the event. "He just started throwing punches. I even had to shield my son Draco from him. I always thought he was a bit mad."  
The scalding comments continued when Weasley furthered accused the Minister of hiding information from the wizarding public, even going so far as to say that Fudge had been denying and ignoring reports of a return by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who everyone knows was defeated fourteen years ago.  
"It's just absurd," says Fudge. "His stories just seem to get more and more far-fetched."  
But it seems that now those stories will come to an end. The Ministry has finally rid itself of this longtime embarrassment.  
  
  
  
Harry looked up to see Ron glaring at Malfoy, his face slightly red and his hands clenched into fists. Malfoy was smirking back at him.  
  
"What, Weasley?" whispered Malfoy. "Do you want to hit me? It's not my fault that your dad's a bumbling, incompetent, ..."  
  
Ron launched himself at Malfoy. They both tumbled to the floor in a flurry of fists. But Crabbe and Goyle were ready. Goyle immediately pulled Ron off of Malfoy and pinned both arms behind his back. Crabbe punched him hard in the stomach, and Ron gasped in pain.  
  
Not waiting another second, Harry jumped at Goyle, causing him to release Ron. Goyle swung blindly at Harry but missed.  
  
"Let's get out of here!" he yelled at Ron.  
  
After one last swift kick at Malfoy, still lying on the floor, Ron scrambled to his feet, grabbed his trunk, and he and Harry raced from the corridor.  
  
After a minute's worth of running to put some distance between themselves and Malfoy, Harry and Ron slowed again to a walk. Harry glanced over at Ron and saw that his face was still slightly red and was set in a stony expression of anger.  
  
Soon they had reached Fred and George's compartment.  
  
"Harry!" George cried as they entered.  
  
"How's our favorite hero been doing?" greeted Fred.  
  
Fred and George were Ron's seventeen year old identical twin brothers. They also had bright red hair.  
  
"What's up, Harry," said Lee Jordan.  
  
Lee was the twins' best friend and more often than not, their partner in crime.  
  
Harry and Ron sat down and were immediately engaged in conversation.  
  
"Have they made you a prefect?" Fred asked eagerly.  
  
"Well," Harry began, then noticed Ron watching him closely, "I didn't get my letter over the summer so I really don't know. I doubt it, though. Not after as many rules as I've broken." Was that relief on Ron's face?  
  
George snorted. "Rules you've broken? C'mon look who you're talking to. We practically wrote the book on rule-breaking."  
  
"Well that's all right," said Fred. "After all, you really don't want to end up like Percy, do you?"  
  
"Yeah," said George, "but I think Ron here does. Don't you, ickle Ronnykins?"  
  
"Shut up," said Ron, although Harry noticed he was blushing.  
  
"I think he was actually disappointed he didn't get made a prefect," said Fred, as though he was having a hard time believing it.  
  
"Hey," said Ron, "just because you two don't care about what Mum wants doesn't mean-"  
  
"What was that, Ron?" George interrupted, his voice suddenly severe. Harry noticed that the smile had also vanished from Fred's face.  
  
"Nothing..." Ron muttered, lowering his head.  
  
They sat in silence for a while, Fred and George still glaring at Ron, until Harry's mind flickered back to The Daily Prophet.  
  
"So your dad resigned?" Harry asked suddenly.  
  
Ron, Fred, and George all looked at him, their faces somber, and Harry immediately wished he hadn't said anything.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred bitterly, "he did. He had to."  
  
"He had to?" Harry asked, puzzled.  
  
"Don't believe everthing you read in the papers, Harry," said George sternly, "especially if that Skeeter bitch is writing it."  
  
"Okay, it's like this," said Fred, seeing the confused look on Harry's face. "A few weeks after the end of school, Fudge decided that he needed an advisor, someone to help him on important decisions. It's little wonder, really, with You-Know-Who back and all. Of course Fudge still denies it, although I think he knows the truth. I reckon he just thinks that if he ignores it and doesn't do anything about it, You-Know-Who will just leave everyone alone and go away." Fred laughed grimly. "Fudge always was an idiot."  
  
"Anyhow, Fudge appointed Lucius Malfoy as his High Advisor and there was a huge uproar in the Ministry. After all, Malfoy had been out of politics for nearly three years. People didn't think it was fair how he could just walk in and get the job, especially since there were more deserving people than him who applied. But even though everyone was upset about the decision, no one wanted to risk their job by speaking out against it. Except for Dad."  
  
Fred grimaced.  
  
"I guess Dad thought that he would gain some support if he said something. So he did. He criticized Fudge's decision, saying that there were more qualified witches and wizards for the job. Fudge was furious."  
  
"He said Dad was just frustrated and jealous that Malfoy had gotten the job. His harsh reaction scared most of the other Ministry witches and wizards, and they quickly backed away from their previous protests. Dad was alone."  
  
"I think that was when Fudge and Malfoy realized they could bring Dad down for good. The stories of Dad's previous trouble surfaced again and Malfoy changed the fight around in Flourish and Blotts to make it sound like it had been Dad's fault. They him into an enemy, and soon other witches and wizards in the Ministry were turning on him. Dad did the only thing he knew to do. He fought back."  
  
"That may be when Dad made his biggest mistake. He started accusing Fudge of concealing information that should have been made public, such as You-Know-Who's return. Fudge denied it and said he was mad. The other Ministry witches and wizards also refused to believe him. Maybe they thought he was mad too. I think that most of them just didn't want to believe it was true. They didn't even want to consider a possible return by You-Know-Who."  
  
"Even though hardly anyone believed him, I think Fudge felt threatened by Dad. I guess he reckoned that it was only a matter of time before Dad started turning some heads or, worse, he found actual proof to show everyone. So one night, Fudge came to the Burrow."  
  
"He came to your house?" Harry asked, surprised.  
  
"Yeah," continued Fred, "but he wasn't alone. Lucius Malfoy came with him." Fred's voice began to falter. "They began arguing and Fudge told Dad in no uncertain terms that if he didn't resign immediately, there would be trouble. Serious trouble. Dad refused and threatened to go public with it. But then...then..." Fred was struggling to continue and Harry saw Ron bow his head. "Malfoy...that bastard...he-he put the Cruciatus Curse on Ginny...we all saw it...and-and she was on the floor...screaming...writhing in agony..." Fred's eyes became distant and began to tear up as though he was vividly seeing it happen again. He paused before continuing.  
  
"Of course Dad had no choice. He told Fudge he'd resign so that Malfoy would stop torturing Ginny. Fudge said that the resignation was effective immediately and there was no need to come back to the Ministry. I don't think I've ever seen Dad look so sad..."  
  
"Now he doesn't have a job and if he opens his mouth about what happened that night, Fudge says he'll send Malfoy back. Dumbledore knows what happened and has offered to help. I suppose we'll take it for now, until we get back on our feet. He's a great man, Dumbledore..." Fred trailed off.  
  
Harry sat there, stunned, looking around at the glum expressions on the Weasleys' faces. He couldn't think of anything to say so they sat in silence.  
  
Harry leaned his head back, a pounding in his ears. For some reason, he had thought that once he had come back into the wizarding world, everything would be okay again. But it was not. All of its trouble and problems had come flooding back and suddenly, it was all very real again. As Harry drifted off to sleep, he almost found himself wishing he were back at the Dursleys'.  
  
No, he told himself fiercely, don't ever think that. There may be trouble and Dark times ahead, but he would be with his friends. And they would face whatever challenges and dangers lay before them, together. What was it Dumbledore had said?  
  
..."...unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."...  
  
Yes, Harry reflected, Dumbledore had been right. United we stand, divided we fall. But Dumbledore usually was right. He was a great man...Dumbledore...  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. The Rescue

Chapter Six  
The Rescue  
  
Harry awoke sleepily from his nap, having no idea how much time had passed. He opened his eyes and saw Ron and Hermione talking quietly in two seats across from him. Fred, George, and Lee had left the compartment. The only sounds he could hear were Ron and Hermione's faint whispering and the distant rattle of the train on the tracks.  
Hermione looked over at him and saw that his eyes were open.  
"Oh, Harry, you're awake."  
Ron looked over too. "Been wondering when you were going to wake up. You've been out for practically the whole trip. We should be nearly there."  
Harry looked out the window. The sky was very dark from a combination of storm clouds and the approaching twilight. Wild, overgrown forests were flashing past. Ron was right. They should be nearly there.  
Harry was about to get up to change into his robes when the train was suddenly rocked very violently. He lost his balance and fell right into Hermione. There was a loud roar (Harry was reminded of the missiles Muggles used), and the train rocked even more violently than before. The glass window shattered inward and Harry tumbled to the floor. The candles in the compartment flickered and died. Harry could hear the squeal of brakes as the train slowed and came to a stop.  
"What the-" but Ron didn't even finish the sentence before a third roar thundered outside. It rocked the train more ferociously than either of the previous two blasts. The Hogwarts Express teetered dangerously on the edge of the rails. The fourth blast finally did it. The train was knocked clear off the tracks, and it rolled over onto its side.  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione tumbled around the compartment as their luggage rained down on top of them. Hedwig's cage smashed against the wall and burst open. She flapped out, hooting indignantly. A basket of Hermione's tipped over and her large ginger cat, Crookshanks, leapt out and began hissing loudly, the hair on its back raised. Another cage, which had previously been covered with a pair of Ron's robes, also fell. It clattered loudly and the dress robes fell away to reveal a small gray owl, about the size of a tennis ball, inside. It was Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, and it began hopping around the cage, hooting madly. The three trunks also came tumbling down. Harry saw Ron dive to shelter Hermione from the raining luggage.  
After the brief scene of chaos, there was a sudden, eerie stillness. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all lay on the floor surrounded and covered by the contents of their trunks. Shards of glass lay all around them. It was dark. The only faint light came from the stars and moon through the shattered window, which was now directly above them. The cold night air sent a chill down Harry's spine.  
In the distance, he could hear yelling, smaller explosions, and blood-curdling screams.  
Harry slowly raised his head from his arms and peered around. Ron was also looking around, his face pale, and terror showing in his eyes. Hermione was still cowering beneath him.  
Harry slowly got to his feet and found that he had several cuts along his arms. Ron also got up and looked around nervously. Hermione raised her head, glanced cautiously around, then also climbed to her feet.  
"What happened?" she whispered, fright in her voice, as she bent down to pick up Crookshanks.  
Harry shrugged. He suddenly realized he was very cold and quickly threw on his robes and cloak. The other two did the same.  
They stood there in silence for a while, each too terrified to speak, listening to the screams and yells growing steadily louder.  
"I think they're getting closer," Harry whispered, listening hard. Ron and Hermione both nodded silently, their eyes wide.  
"Let's get outta here," Harry said suddenly, snatching up his wand. Ron picked his up too and also opened Pigwidgeon's cage.  
"C'mon, Pig," Ron said, stuffing the tiny owl into his cloak pocket.  
Hermione grabbed her wand and also picked up Crookshanks, softly trying to calm him down.  
Harry surveyed the surroundings and realized that the window above them was the only way out. He hurriedly began to stack the trunks to provide a way up. Ron and Hermione saw what he was doing and quickly began to help.  
Harry suddenly realized how close the screams, yells, and blasts had become.  
"We've gotta go," Harry said, urgency in his voice. As though sensing what was going on, Hedwig flew onto Harry's shoulder.  
"Hedwig," he whispered to her, "I want you to go. Fly away to somewhere safe for awhile. Come back in a few days. It's too dangerous for you right now."  
Hedwig looked back at him dubiously as Harry stroked her.  
"Harry!" Ron suddenly whispered. "See if Hedwig will take Pig with her."  
"Did you hear that?" Harry repeated to Hedwig. "Will you take Pig with you? And keep him safe?"  
Hedwig clicked her beak disapprovingly.  
"Please," Harry pleaded, "just this once. For me. Please. Just keep him safe for a few days."  
Hedwig stared at Harry with her amber eyes then lowered her head and extended one of her wings.  
"Thank you," Harry breathed. Ron scrambled to pull Pig out of his pocket. The tiny owl immediately tried to take off but Ron grabbed it quickly. It sat in the palm of his hand staring up at him, unusually quiet.  
"Listen to me," he said to Pig sternly. "You have to follow Hedwig now. Stay close to her." Pig sat there quite still, as though realizing the importance of what he was saying. "You got it?"  
As if in answer, Pig flew over to Hedwig and sat next to her, looking at the snowy owl as though waiting for instructions.  
Another explosion went off, this time very close to their car.  
"C'mon, Harry," Hermione pleaded, her voice trembling, "let's go."  
"Okay, Hedwig, I'll see you in a few days," Harry said quickly. And with one last affectionate nip at his hand, she took off into the starry sky, Pig close behind her.  
"Let's go," Harry said immediately, and the three of them hurriedly began scrambling up the trunks, out into the cold night air.  
Harry was the first to emerge from the compartment, struggling to gain a foothold on the overturned train car. He looked up and down the tracks and discovered the entire train had been derailed. Several cars lay on their sides, smoke coming from within some of them. Dark shapes were scurrying into the woods that surrounded them while taller figures made their way from compartment to compartment as though looking for something, occasionally sending a blast of magic inside. It took Harry several seconds before he fully realized what was going on.  
The Hogwarts Express had been attacked and completely derailed. Students were fleeing from the wreckage into the woods as tall, hooded, and masked figures walked along the train, searching its insides. Harry realized immediately what they were but Hermione, who had climbed up beside him, beat him to it.  
"Death Eaters," she breathed, pure terror filling her voice.  
Harry nodded silently as Ron climbed out and joined them. Harry heard him swear quietly as he gazed around.   
"Listen," Harry said quickly, turning to face the other two. "We've gotta get into the forest before they see us. Stay together. And get your wands out." He looked at Ron and Hermione to find them both staring anxiously back at him, and he realized they were waiting on him.  
"Let's go."  
They scrambled down the side of the train car and took off for the forest at a sprint, trying to stay low to the ground. Harry led the way, Ron and Hermione right at his heels. They reached the edge of the trees just as something large, bright, and green exploded into the sky behind them. All three of them whipped around and Hermione even gave a small scream.  
An enormous skull with a snake coming from its mouth, glowing a brilliant green, was rising slowly into the sky. It seemed to be made up of bright lights and a greenish haze. It was the Dark Mark.  
The Dark Mark was Voldemort's symbol and was sent into the air by his supporters when they had murdered someone.  
More screams filled the night air as the skull hovered above the train, etched sharply against the black sky.  
Harry's mind whirled. It was the Dark Mark. Had someone been killed? Hermione was staring up at it, her face very white. Ron looked as though he was about to collapse on the spot.  
He turned to look directly at Harry. "Y-y-you think th-that Fr-Fred, George, and G-Ginny are alright, right?" he stammered, his eyes more terrified than Harry had ever seen them.  
"Y-yeah, I'm sure they're fine," Harry reassured him. But his voice sounded hollow even to himself.  
"Guys, we better go," Hermione whispered.  
"You're right," Harry agreed quickly.  
They began to make their way deeper into the forest, Hermione having to pull Ron away from the sight of the Dark Mark.  
They tripped and stumbled their way through the dark, no one daring to light the path with their wand. They could hear dark shapes hurrying around them on either side. Screams were still cutting sharply through the air, and the dull echoes of explosions thundered behind them.   
After several minutes of running blindly through the dark, Ron suddenly gave a yell of pain and went down hard disappearing from view. Harry and Hermione came to a stop and started searching the ground around them.  
"Ron...?" Hermione called uncertainly. There was a muffled answer that seemed very distant.  
Harry pulled out his wand.  
"Harry...don't. What if they see it?"  
But Harry ignored her. "Lumos," he muttered and a bright beam of light shot out of the end of his wand, illuminating the ground around them.  
Harry saw it instantly. A thick bush a little way back was half-trampled. A wide, deep hole was barely visible through the broken branches. Harry hurried over to it, pulling the branches aside, to peer into the hole.  
It was a steep drop but was more than wide enough for a person to fit through.  
"Ron?" Harry called downward, Hermione and Crookshanks peering over his shoulder.  
A voice, unmistakably Ron's, answered. "I'm down here. Watch out for that first step." He sounded like he was in a lot of pain.  
Harry looked back at Hermione. "I'm going down."  
She stood there, uncertainly, holding Crookshanks. A sudden explosion nearby seemed to make up her mind. "Okay, I'm going too."  
Harry stepped back to allow her to go first and heard her slide down what sounded like a steep, wet slope. With one last look over his shoulder, he climbed into the hole.   
The soil was slippery and it was very dark as Harry slid very quickly downward, but after only seconds, he burst out once again into the night air. The hole had opened in the bank of a shallow creek. It was still very dark, but the Dark Mark hovering in the sky cast a dull, eerie green glow on everything.  
Harry raised himself from the creek, his robes now soaked and filthy. Ron was sitting on the opposite bank clutching his ankle, with Hermione kneeling beside him.  
"I think he may have broken it," Hermione whispered, sounding worried.  
Harry swore under his breath. "We've got to find a safer spot than this, then. C'mon, Hermione, help me with him."  
Harry went over to Ron and, with Hermione's aid, they helped him under a low overhang nearby. Ron didn't seem as though he knew what was going on. He kept moaning and clutching his ankle, oblivious to everything else around him.  
"Hermione, stay with him," Harry told her once they were safely beneath the overhang. "I'm going to look for help."  
"But, Harry-"  
"Don't worry about me. Just take care of Ron."  
Harry quickly made his way down the creek, keeping low and close to the bank. He could hear people in the forest above him yelling and running around frantically. But a pair of older male voices made him stop to listen.  
"...damn boy. Where the hell is he?"  
"I think he's a lot more trouble than he's worth. We're wasting our time."  
"Maybe, but it's Master's orders. He wants Potter alive. Says He's got some matters to settle with him."  
Harry peered over the top of the embankment. Two Death Eaters stood there, their backs turned to him. There was a sudden rustling in the trees ahead of them and an instant later, a round-faced boy about Harry's age burst through.  
It was Neville Longbottom, a very forgetful boy who slept in the same dormitory as Harry. Right now, he was staring fearfully at the two masked figures after screeching to a halt directly in front of them.  
One of the Death Eaters laughed coldly. "Are you lost, boy?" he sneered.  
Neville's face was the color of paste. "N-n-n-no. I-I-I w-was j-j-just..." but he couldn't even continue because he was stuttering so badly.  
The Death Eater laughed again then his voice turned suddenly hard. "Do you know Harry Potter, boy?"  
"W-w-well...I-I...y-y-yes..." Neville stammered.  
"Well, where is he?"  
"I-I...d-don't know..." Neville whimpered, now scrambling away from the Death Eaters.  
But not fast enough. One of them whipped out his wand, directing it at Neville, lying fallen and hopeless on the ground.  
"Crucio!" the Death Eater roared.  
Neville's high-pitched screams filled the air as he lay on the ground, shaking and twitching uncontrollably. Harry watched, helpless, then saw the utter pain and terror reflected in Neville's eyes. More pain than anyone should ever have to experience...  
Throwing caution to the winds, Harry leapt over the embankment, pointing his wand at the Death Eater performing the Cruciatus Curse.  
"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled.  
The Death Eater tumbled forward, as though hit by an invisible force, and the wand fell from his hand. Neville's screams abruptly stopped.  
The other Death Eater turned, but Harry was faster.  
"Expelliarmus!" he yelled again, and watched as the masked figure flew backward a few feet and landed with a loud thud.  
But the first Death Eater was back on his feet once more, and Harry realized that he wouldn't be able to fight both of them off much longer.  
"STUPEFY!!" Two deep, rough voices roared from the woods, and two jets of red light shot from the trees, striking the two Death Eaters. They both collapsed, unconscious.  
Harry immediately sprinted over to Neville, who was still trembling on the ground.  
"Neville!" Harry yelled, shaking him softly by the shoulders. "Are you alright?"  
Neville looked up at him, his eyes glazed and distant. The terrible pain was still in them.  
"H-Harry..." he gasped. "I-I...I didn't know...I...my-my parents...th-they were...screaming..."  
"Harry!" called a deep familiar voice.  
Harry turned to see a giant man, nearly twice as tall as an average man, running towards him. The giant had long, curly hair and a wild, shaggy beard that nearly covered his entire face. He carried an enormous crossbow in one hand and a large pink umbrella in the other.  
"Hagrid!" Harry yelled in relief. "I think something's wrong with Neville."  
Hagrid hurried over and knelt beside Neville, who was still mumbling incomprehensively.  
"...sorry...so sorry...I didn't know...my fault...it-it's all my fault..."  
Hagrid looked up, worried. "I'll let Moody bring him up ter the castle. Let Madam Pomfrey take her look at him."  
"Moody!" Hagrid yelled into the trees.  
A very bizarre-looking man came limping forward. Limping, because of his carved wooden leg. Alastor Moody had wild, gray hair that surrounded a scar-covered face. Half of his nose was gone. But the strangest thing about him was his eye. One of his eyes was small and dark but the other was very wide and round. The "other" eye was a magical eye that could see straight through most objects. It was a startling blue and moved independently from the normal eye. Hence the nickname, "Mad-Eye".  
Moody made his way across the clearing, both of his eyes darting alertly around into the surrounding trees. He stared down at Neville, actually seeming to listen to what he was saying.  
"...I'm s-sorry...d-didn't want th-them to suffer...didn't know...all my fault..."  
Moody's eye widened slightly then narrowed once more in concentration.  
"He needs to see Dumbledore," Moody's voice was low and rough. "Something's wrong..."  
"All righ'," Hagrid said standing up. "Yeh take him back ter the castle. I'll handle Harry here."  
Moody nodded, picked up Neville, and disappeared back into the forest. Harry heard Neville's frantic whispering fade away then turned to look at Hagrid. But it was Hagrid who spoke first.   
"Where's Ron an' Hermione?"  
"I left them back down the creek a little ways. Ron hurt his ankle."  
"Lead the way then," Hagrid said, his voice full of determination. "I'm s'pose ter bring yeh back ter the castle meself, Dumbledore's orders."  
Harry and Hagrid began to make their way back up the creek.  
"What happened tonight, Hagrid?" Harry looked over at him. Hagrid's face looked as though it had suddenly turned to stone.  
"You-Know-Who," he said, his face set.  
Harry was about to ask another question but Hagrid started talking again. "His Death Eaters attacked yer train. Cowardly thing ter do, attackin' a train full o' kids. Place where you was least protected." Hagrid shook his head sadly. "Shouldn'ta bin so exposed like it was. Shoulda bin some protection, but You-Know-Who took care o' that."  
"How?" Harry asked, a sense of foreboding creeping up on him.  
"Well, fer starters, we've bin kinda short-handed lately. What with Sirius an' Snape out all the time. An' recently, with Lupin's disappearance." Harry started at these words, but Hagrid continued. "So Dumbledore decided ter place a few wizards along the way. Act as lookout guards. If there was any sign o' trouble, they were ter notify Dumbledore immediately."  
"But on'y an hour ago, Dumbledore gets this news that there's Death Eaters bin seen in the Forbidden Forest, see? An' since the Forest is righ' outside Hogwarts, Dumbledore pulls me an' Moody back ter help out. We had the last leg o' the train's journey ter watch over. In fac', the school can' be more'n a few miles away."  
"Anyhow, we rushed back ter see what was goin' on an' followed Dumbledore in ter the Forest. Searched a long time we did, but never found nothin'. All o' sudden, Dumbledore gets word that the train was attacked. 'Course he knew righ' then that we'd bin tricked. Sent me an' Moody back ter help out an' gave me orders ter bring yeh back safely. An' good thing we found yeh too."  
"So you and Moody are the only two out here?" Harry asked.  
"Nah," Hagrid replied, "I reckon Arabella, Mundungus, an' some o' the others are out here too by now. An' o' course Charlie an' his Dragon Riders."  
Harry looked over at Hagrid in surprise. "Charlie? Charlie Weasley?" Hagrid nodded. "He-they can ride dragons?"  
Hagrid winked at Harry. "Well, not s'posed ter be able ter do it. They're smaller dragons, mind. Opaleye's, I think. Not as aggressive as some o' the other breeds. But that's how some o' the students are gettin' back ter the castle t'night."  
Harry wished briefly that he was flying back to the castle on a dragon, but quickly changed his mind. He'd had his fair share of experiences with dragons in the past.  
They had arrived at the spot where Ron and Hermione were waiting. He saw Hermione look up, surprise registering on her face, then wave them over.   
Ron was unconscious, apparently passed out from the pain. Hagrid looked down at him, concerned, as they made their way over to the ledge.  
"Alrigh' there, Hermione?"  
"Yes," she replied, "but I think Ron may have broken his ankle."  
Hagrid bent down to have a look at it then straightened up. "It's broken alrigh', but nothin' Madam Pomfrey can' fix. But let's get goin'."  
He reached into one of the many pockets of his large overcoat and withdrew a crumpled quill and sheet of parchment. He scribbled something very hastily onto the paper, folded it, then reached once more into his overcoat. This time he withdrew a small hairy animal, less than three foot long, with short legs and long-clawed toes. It was a badger.  
Sticking the note into the badger's mouth, he muttered "Dumbledore" and immediately it was sprinting swiftly away. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing an animal move that fast.  
"Shouldn't take too long," Hagrid said.  
They stood there in silence until Harry decided to ask some of the questions that had been on his mind.  
"So when did Lupin disappear?"  
Hagrid gave Harry a look that suggested they probably shouldn't be talking about it but answered anyway. "Almos' two months ago. Sirius had contacted him a few days before ter let him know that You-Know-Who was back an' suddenly he jus' disappeared. His house was empty but there wasn't any sign o' a struggle. Haven't heard nothin' since."  
"Probably nothin' ter worry abou' really," Hagrid added, although Harry thought he detected a hint of worry in his voice.  
Harry became aware of a low rumbling that was growing steadily louder. He looked around, searching for the source of the noise. It had grown to a roar and suddenly, an enormous motorcycle fell out of the sky directly in front of them.   
Harry gasped in shock, but Hagrid seemed quite undisturbed by it. He picked up Ron and began walking over to the motorcycle, beckoning Harry and Hermione to follow.  
As Harry made his way over to the bike, he couldn't help but feel that he had seen it somewhere before. He had no idea where, but there was something oddly familiar about it...  
Hagrid was already on the motorcycle, Ron secured tightly behind the handlebars. Harry and Hermione climbed aboard behind them. Harry grabbed the back of Hagrid's thick overcoat and Hermione slid her arms around Harry's waist. He was glad that it was dark so that she couldn't see how red his ears had turned.  
"Ready?" Hagrid called, glancing back over his shoulder. Harry and Hermione both nodded, and they were off.  
The roar of the engine ripped through the air as it rose quickly from the ground. The wind was whipping his hair violently, and Harry felt Hermione tighten her grip. He chanced a look down at the ground and from their height, could see the full extent of the damage.  
Harry doubted whether the Hogwarts Express would ever ride again. The train was completely off the tracks. Many cars were overturned and several more were engulfed in flames. Harry thought that it looked like an enormous, dead snake. The Dark Mark was still in the sky, though slightly faded. There were still people running through the forest below, but not as many, Harry noticed, as there had been before.  
Dark shapes were lifting from the ground, taking flight all around them. They beat their wings, slowly but gracefully, as small figures rode atop them. Harry realized they were dragons.  
Off in the distance, Harry thought he could make out the silhouette of a vast castle. They were closing in rapidly upon it. Directly beneath them lay a quiet village. It was Hogsmeade, the only entirely magical settlement in all of Britain. Third year students and above were allowed to visit the village on assigned weekends with permission from their parents or guardians. There were several interesting places to go in Hogsmeade...Honeydukes, Zonko's, the Three Broomsticks, the Shrieking Shack...Harry let his mind wander as he imagined himself buying bags of sweets in Honeydukes, then stopping by the Three Broomsticks for a warm butterbeer...  
Harry came out of his reverie when he realized they were beginning their descent. The castle was growing ever closer, its numerous walls and towers illuminated by the lights of dozens of windows.  
Hagrid brought the bike down on the wide, sloping lawns stretching before the castle. He steered them up to the great oak front doors then came to a stop at the foot of the stone steps. Before they even got off the bike, one of the doors flew open and two people came rushing out.  
Professor McGonagall was a tall witch with black hair and square glasses. Normally, she was rather stern-looking and severe but at the moment, her face bore an expression of extreme relief.  
"Hagrid!" she gasped. "You're back, and he's okay!"  
"O' course, Professor," Hagrid replied.  
The other wizard was tall, thin and very old. His long silvery hair and beard caught the moonlight as he walked. The face bore its usual expression of kindness but the twinkle in the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles was gone, and there was a strain in the lines of his face that hadn't been there the year before. It was Professor Dumbledore.  
He came to a halt in front of Harry, his eyes full of concern.  
"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked gently.  
Harry nodded then pointed to Ron. "I'm fine but Ron hurt his ankle."  
Dumbledore turned his attention to Ron. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. Of course, he shall receive assistance immediately. Minerva," he called back to Professor McGonangall, "would you be so kind as to help our friend Mr. Weasley here up to the hospital wing?"  
"Of course," Professor McGonagall answered. Harry watched as she conjured a floating stretcher out of thin air. Hagrid lay Ron on it, then Professor McGonagall carried Ron up the stone steps and inside.  
"Well, I better get goin', sir," Hagrid said to Dumbledore as he climbed back onto his motorbike. "I'm sure the others could use me help yet tonight. G'night, sir."  
"Good night, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, "and thank you very much. Let me know when you get back for the night. I'll be needing to talk to you."  
With a nod and a final farewell, Hagrid started the motorcycle's powerful engine and roared away into the night.  
Dumbledore turned to Harry and Hermione. "I'm sure that it has been a long night for both of you, but before I send you up to your dormitories for the night, I would like a few words."  
Harry and Hermione nodded and followed him up the steps into the cavernous entrance hall. A wide, well-polished marble staircase leading to the second floor lay directly in front of them. The door to the Great Hall, where all meals were held, was to their right. Usually on the first day of school, it was packed full of students all getting ready for the start of term feast and Sorting Ceremony, but tonight it was eerily empty and silent.  
Dumbledore led them up the marble staircase, his long, purple robes trailing behind him. They turned down one corridor, then another, up a flight of stairs, turned one last corner and found themselves in a hallway that contained a large, stone gargoyle. Dumbledore strode up to it, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Fizzing Whizbee", and the gargoyle came to life, stretching and giving a great yawn, then moved aside as the wall behind it opened.  
They went into the opening, the wall closing behind them, and made their way up a spiraling stone staircase that actually moved (much like a Muggle escalator). After many spirals upward, they found themselves at an oak door, with a polished brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Not bothering to knock, Dumbledore opened the door and they went inside.  
Dumbledore's office was a large, circular, beautifully decorated room. There were a variety of strange little instruments and objects sitting on tables and shelves all about the room. Portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses lined the walls, all looking suspiciously at Harry and Hermione as they entered. Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, was sitting upon a perch next to the door, looking splendid with his scarlet-and-gold feathers and long, graceful tail. A monstrous wooden desk sat at the other end of the room, an ornate chair behind it. Three more chairs were in front of it, but one was already occupied.  
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed and rushed over to embrace his godfather.  
Sirius Black was a tall, thin man with short black hair. He would have been very handsome and had an almost boyish appearance...except for his eyes. His eyes spoke of someone who had seen horrors that most people could only imagine...  
"Harry," greeted Sirius, "it's great to see you. And safe. How are you, Hermione?"  
"Fine, thank you," Hermione replied politely.  
Sirius held Harry at arm's length, looking at him, an expression of wonder on his face. "It's amazing how much you look like your father, especially with you getting older..." he trailed off as though he was remembering some distant memory.  
Harry nodded, smiling. Sirius had been his father's best friend before he had died. He had been the best man in his parents' wedding and had also been appointed as Harry's godfather.  
All four of them took a seat, but it was Dumbledore who started.  
"So," he began, "I need you and Hermione to tell me exactly what happened tonight, Harry."  
Together, Harry and Hermione related the story to Dumbledore and Sirius. They told them about how the train had been abruptly attacked and their flight into the forest. When they reached the part about the Dark Mark, Harry noticed the profoundly grave expression on Dumbledore's face. They told about Ron's fall and how Harry went to look for help. Harry had to take over from there and told about how the Death Eaters had used the Cruciatus Curse on Neville. A great sadness filled Dumbledore's eyes at this, and Harry even thought it looked as though he was close to tears. Harry told how Hagrid and Moody had rescued them and how Hagrid had brought them back to the castle.  
After the tale was done, they sat in silence. Dumbledore sat with his head resting on his clasped hands, deep in thought. Sirius merely sat there, glancing between Harry and Dumbledore.  
Finally Dumbledore spoke, although it seemed as though it was more to himself than anyone else. "Well...the Dark Mark...we shall see...we shall see...And of course I shall need to pay a visit to Mr. Longbottom."  
Dumbledore finally looked up, and Harry was surprised at how old, tired, and worn out he suddenly looked. "Thank you, you two. I suggest that you now go up to your dormitories and get some much-needed rest. After all, classes begin tomorrow."  
Harry looked over at Sirius. "Are you...?"  
"I'm afraid I can't stay here at Hogwarts, Harry," Sirius said. "Too much of a risk. But I'll be nearby if you need me. Just send an owl."  
"Okay," said Harry, standing up.  
"But what about the Sorting?" Hermione asked suddenly.  
"I'm afraid it was impossible to manage to have the feast tonight," Dumbledore said, regret in his voice. "What with students arriving at all different hours and many needing a visit to the hospital wing, it would have been very difficult to pull off. Professor McGonagall is handling the Sorting in private as the first-years arrive. The start of term announcements will be made over breakfast tomorrow morning. I'm sorry," he added sincerely, "but I'm afraid it's the best we could do."  
Harry and Hermione gave their final good-nights to Dumbledore and Sirius then left the office. They proceeded down the spiral staircase, emerging from behind the gargoyle, and began making their way up to their dormitories in Gryffindor Tower. They climbed staircase after staircase wearily and trudged their way down the corridors.  
Finally, when they were just about ready to turn the final corner into the final corridor, Hermione reached over and put her arm around Harry. It was so completely unexpected that Harry didn't even know how to react. But he didn't pull away even when she lay her head on his shoulder. Harry felt a strange closeness to her that he couldn't remember ever feeling in his life.  
At the end of the corridor was a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. She was snoozing gently in her frame when Harry and Hermione walked up.  
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," the Fat Lady apologized as she shook herself awake. "I must have dozed off. Go on in. Don't worry about the password yet since things have been pretty unusual all night." She suddenly eyed them as though seeing them for the first time. "Are you two...?" she asked pointing her finger back and forth between them.  
"No," Harry said sleepily.  
The Fat Lady didn't move.  
"Please," Harry sighed, exasperated. "Open up. We're tired."   
The Fat Lady gave them one last look, then, realizing they weren't going to say anything more, she swung open with a frustrated sigh.  
The Gryffindor common room on the other side of the portrait hole was a large, cozy circular room. It was stuffed with large, oversized, comfy-looking armchairs, and a welcoming fire blazed warmly in the fireplace. At the moment, it was completely deserted.  
Hermione turned to Harry, hugging him tightly. "I'm so glad we made it back safely, Harry. Once again it was because of you. Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered. Harry didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say.  
She let go of him, smiling.  
"Good night, Harry," she said and climbed the steps leading to the girls' dormitories, disappearing from view.  
Harry made his way over to the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories and began to climb. He reached the very top and flung open the wooden door. Inside was the one place that Harry considered home more than anywhere else.  
It was a circular room with high, narrow windows. Five four-posters, all with deep red velvet hangings were spaced around the room.  
Harry noticed that Dean and Seamus were both back already, sound asleep in their beds. He assumed Ron and Neville were in the hospital wing.  
At the foot of his bed, someone had brought up his trunk. It was slightly battered, but after a quick check inside, it seemed as though all of his things had been thrown back in it.  
He took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. His head was very full of thoughts and questions about the day's events. It's usually pretty hard for a person to get to sleep when there's a lot on their mind, but somehow, Harry Potter was asleep before his head hit the pillow.   
  
  
  



	7. The Forest Hunt

Chapter Seven  
The Forest Hunt  
  
Harry awoke in the morning to the downpour of a heavy rain and distant thunder. It seemed that the storm clouds that had arrived the night before were now in full swing.  
Harry quickly got ready, noticing that Dean and Seamus were already gone, and headed downstairs to the common room. There were only a few people left inside, all yawning and stretching lazily. Everyone else must already be down at breakfast, Harry thought sleepily.  
After making sure he had everything he needed, Harry left through the portrait hole and began to make his way through the maze of corridors and staircases down to the Great Hall below.  
The halls of the ancient castle were all lit by numerous candles and torches that attempted to shed some light through the storm-darkened corridors. Antique paintings, filled mostly by dozing witches and wizards, lined the walls, and old, rusting suits of armor were stationed throughout the castle, talking quietly to one another.  
Hogwarts had always been the place that seemed most like home to Harry. He felt it was where he belonged, within its impenetrable walls, and despite the terrible danger and dark times that had descended upon the wizard world, Harry was glad to be back. Finally reaching the entrance hall, Harry stepped down the marble staircase and entered the Great Hall.  
Four great long tables were arranged next to one another, one for each of the four Hogwarts Houses (Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor). The staff table at the head of the hall was set up facing the four House tables, at which, Harry noticed, most of the teachers were already gathered. The ceiling, stretched high above the Hall, was enchanted to look like the sky outside. The storm clouds cast the Hall into a near darkness that was lit only by the hundreds of candles hovering above the long tables.  
Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table where he sat down next to Hermione and a rather tired-looking Ron.  
"Hey, Harry," Ron greeted wearily. "Hermione was just checking over our schedules for us, making sure they're right." He paused. "It'd be a shame if we were missing a class."  
This comment was rewarded with a glare from Hermione, who was studying three sheets of parchment. She gave one last satisfied sigh then handed Ron and Harry their schedules.  
"It looks like we've got Care of Magical Creatures this morning and Herbology this afternoon. Perfect day for it," she muttered, glancing up at the dark sky. Harry began to look over his schedule himself.  
"What's this?" he asked. "Study of Magical Artifacts?"  
"Yeah, I saw that too," Hermione said between mouthfuls of oatmeal. "I think it's a new subject. I've never heard of it before. I think I might ask Professor McGonagall if I can change it to Ancient Runes, though.magical artifacts have never interested me much and I just find runes fascinating."  
Ron turned his snort of laughter into a cough.  
Harry turned his attention to the staff table as he began to eat his own breakfast. Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher, was talking to Professor Sprout, the Herbology witch. A couple of chairs down, Harry was surprised to see a very young woman with long silvery-white hair, large blue eyes, and a very pretty smile talking to Professor Sinistra of Astronomy.  
"Look, Ron!" Harry whispered. "It's Fleur!"  
Ron nearly fell off his chair as he whirled around, craning his neck as his gaze searched the Hall.  
"Where?" he whispered eagerly.  
"There," Harry said, pointing her out at the staff table. "I guess she got that teaching job after all."  
Fleur Delacour had been at Hogwarts last year, competing in the Triwizard Tournament as the champion from Beauxbatons. At the end of last year, she had said she hoped to get a teaching job at Hogwarts. Apparently, she had gotten it.  
As Ron continued to stare wide-eyed and dazed at Fleur, Harry continued his look down the staff table. A couple of sets down from Fleur sat Professor Severus Snape.  
The sallow-skinned, greasy-haired, hook-nosed potions professor was Harry's least favorite teacher at Hogwarts. His dislike for Snape was unparalleled by anybody (except for maybe Malfoy). But the intense ill- will was mutual. Snape hated Harry.  
The potions master sat at the head table talking to no one, his sneering face set in stone as he gazed intensely out at the gathering students.  
The chair beside Snape was empty and Harry realized with some surprise that it belonged to Dumbledore. The fact that the headmaster was not present was highly unusual and strangely unsettling. Dumbledore never missed a feast.  
On the other side of the vacant chair sat Professor McGonagall. Her usual stern stare had returned, yet there was also a faint tiredness about her. Harry supposed she had had a long night last night.  
The last two seats beyond Professor McGonagall were also both empty. He recognized the last seat to be Hagrid's, who was probably out busy with his game-keeping duties.  
The Great Hall rang with the talk, laughter, and shouts of the gathered student body, most of whom were still actively discussing the events of the night before.  
Harry sat, thoughtfully eating his breakfast, his mind mulling over what had happened the day before. He felt a bit overwhelmed by everything that had occurred on his first day back and was beginning to become a bit apprehensive as to what the rest of the school year would hold.  
"What's taking so long?" Hermione muttered impatiently as she glanced up from her schedule and checked her watch. "The announcements should have been made by now."  
"Don't worry," Ron said, looking over from the Quidditch conversation he was having with Fred and George. "The longer we sit in here, the less time we have for our classes today."  
Hermione scowled but before she could reply, a hush began to settle over the Great Hall. Heads were turning toward the door as everyone lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.  
Harry raised himself off his chair a few inches to get a better look.  
Professor Dumbledore strode in, his face a grave mask of stone. Behind him walked a student, who Harry recognized immediately as the brown- haired boy with the new broomstick from the train station. His face was very blotchy and his robes were a wreckage. They were torn in several places and hung limply on the slouched, shuddering figure. Following the boy were two more figures, both of whom looked very grim and concerned as they watched the boy stumble in front of them. One of them was Hagrid. He looked very worn and exhausted, his crossbow still strapped across his back. The other man was smaller than Hagrid. He looked elderly but a fierce fire of determination still burned in his eyes. He was tall, nearly as tall as Dumbledore, and was pretty well-muscled considering his age. He was almost entirely bald except for a few wisps of white hair around his ears. The lines in his face suggested that this wizard had seen almost everything that the world had to offer.  
Harry suddenly had a sinking feeling of unease in his stomach as he watched the small procession make their way to the head table. Something about the way they walked wasn't quite right.Something about the expressions on their faces.Something about the looks in their eyes.  
When they reached the staff table, the old man and Hagrid took the two end seats and Dumbledore turned to the boy. Harry saw Dumbledore, his eyes full of a tremendous sympathy and sadness, whisper something to the student. The student nodded silently and made his way slowly over to the Gryffindor table. Harry saw upon a closer look that the boy was crying. His ragged breathing came in close, frightened gasps and he was stumbling miserably down the aisle.  
The entire Hall was watched him intently. A girl with short black hair, about the same age as the boy, stood up at the Gryffindor table.  
"Austin!" she cried, her face twisted into an expression of extreme worry and anxiety.  
The boy stumbled to a halt, tears still running freely down his cheeks, and looked up at the girl.  
Then with a terrible wail of grief, he collapsed on the floor.  
The girl ran over to him, putting her arms around him, trying to help him to his feet. She was whispering comfortingly to him, but Harry noticed that she too had begun to cry. The two of them made their way back slowly to the table and took their seats, still sobbing into each other's shoulders.  
Harry looked back at the staff table to find Dumbledore standing before his chair, staring out at the students. His eyes were filled with an incredible sadness and grief mingled with an intense remorse and a flicker of fury. It was hard for Harry to look at him. It made him want to start crying himself.  
"Last night," Dumbledore began, his deep voice echoing throughout the silent Great Hall, "tragedy struck the Hogwarts Express."  
He looked over to the Gryffindor table, where the boy still sat sobbing quietly. Harry noticed that Dumbledore's usually steady voice was shaking slightly as he spoke.  
"The train was attacked and destroyed by a group of Lord Voldemort's supporters. Although it was an unexpected and terrible incident, I assume sole responsibility for what has happened."  
Harry saw several teachers open their mouths as though to say something in his defense, and Hagrid nearly got to his feet. But Dumbledore continued, unaware.  
"It was my responsibility to see that the Express reached Hogwarts safely. I failed."  
Dumbledore lowered his head then raised it once more. There were tears in his eyes.  
"It is also because of my lack of action that last night, two Hogwarts students were killed."  
He bowed his head once more and allowed the effect of these words to ripple through the Hall. Harry heard Hermione gasp beside him. Several students were beginning to look over at the boy at the Gryffindor table, and a shocking realization was beginning to dawn on everyone.  
"I regret to inform you," Dumbledore continued once more, and there was a definite tremble in his voice now, "that Gryffindor second-years Natalie McDonald and Tony Lyle were murdered during the attack on the Hogwarts Express."  
Harry heard a girl further down the Gryffindor table give a grief- stricken scream, and the Hall was immediately chaos.  
Several more screams tore through the air as students who knew the deceased broke down into tears.  
Hermione sat there, hand to her mouth and eyes wide, slowly shaking her head as though not wanting to believe Dumbledore's words were true. Ron wore a stunned look on his face as he stared dumbfounded at the headmaster.  
Harry's mind was whirling. Two students had been killed? Somehow it didn't seem possible. Not at Hogwarts.not under Dumbledore's protection.  
But in a flash, memories, cold and sharp, came flooding back to Harry..  
Cedric falling lifeless to the ground.his gray eyes, blank, expressionless, dead..  
The Hogwarts Express.lying damaged and ruined on the barren tracks.dark, hooded figures stalking beside the wreckage..  
Then the Dark Mark.exploding brilliantly into the night sky.its hollow, empty eyes gazing starkly down upon the scene of chaos below..  
It could happen, Harry realized, the reality of it coursing through him like ice. People died here at Hogwarts. No one was safe anymore..  
The frantic whispering in the Great Hall slowly died away as Dumbledore raised his head once more. "This is one of the most tragic events to ever occur at Hogwarts. If proper action had been taken on my part, beforehand, then perhaps all of this could have been avoided. And for that, I sincerely apologize with my entire heart."  
The other teachers at the staff table were looking mutinous again, as though they wanted to stand up and tell Dumbledore it wasn't his fault. But no one interrupted him, and he continued.  
"I would do anything to change last night's course of events, but, since what has passed, has passed, we must continue and look toward the coming school year. But before we begin, let's take a moment of silence to remember Natalie and Tony."  
Dumbledore himself bowed his head, and the Hall lapsed into a complete silence. Even the crying boy seemed to have fallen still.  
Harry glanced around, looking at all the somber faces staring wordlessly back at one another. The news of the two Gryffindors' deaths had come as an utter shock, and no one seemed able to believe it. Or almost no one...  
Harry saw at the Slytherin table at the other end of the Hall Crabbe and Goyle laughing silently to themselves and Malfoy sneering broadly at Dumbledore's words. Harry knew that all three of their fathers were Death Eaters, and he wouldn't have been surprised if they had actually been involved in the attack on the Express.  
Harry could feel an intense fury building rapidly inside him as he watched their sniggering faces. He forced himself to look away.  
After about a minute, Dumbledore raised his head and began to speak in a much steadier and clearer tone.  
"Welcome, everyone, to Hogwarts. Since we are running short on time this morning, I will keep this brief."  
"I am pleased to inform you that we have two new teachers here this year. We welcome Professor Delacour as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Fleur gave a polite smile, "and Professor Fletcher as the teacher of our new class here at Hogwarts, Study of Magical Artifacts." The old man who had accompanied Hagrid into the Hall gave a small nod.  
"Quidditch will resume as normal, and House teams may begin practicing next week."  
Dumbledore's voice took on a more seriuous quality once more. "Although last night's attack was very unfortunate, you are all safe now at school. I assure you that the grounds and castle have been very well- protected, and everyone may continue through the school year like ordinary."  
"Once you are finished with your breakfast, I would ask everyone to please begin making your way to your first class. I wish you luck with your studies this year."  
The quiet that had descended upon the Great Hall shattered. Students began climbing to their feet and talking once more.  
"Why are they leaving already?" George asked incredulously, staring at the students who were already leaving the Hall and headed to their first class.  
"I know," agreed Fred in the same disbelieving tone. "It's as though they actually want to go to class."  
"Well," said Hermione standing up, "we better get going. We don't want to be late."  
Ron stared at her, his eyes wide and mouth open. "You have to be kidding!"  
He began piling more bacon and eggs onto his plate. "I'm not through eating yet."  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, fine. Stay here all morning for what I care. I'll be in Care of Magical Creatures." And with a sigh of disapproval, she got up and left.  
Harry saw Ron watch her all the way out the doorway.  
"So your brothers and Ginny made it back okay last night?" Harry asked.  
Ron nodded. "Ginny got a few burns but she'll be okay. So what exactly happened when I was out?"  
Harry told Ron the entire story he had told Dumbledore the night before. The only part he left out was the walk back to Gryffindor Tower when Hermione had put her arm around him.  
"Wow," said Ron amazed, when Harry finished.  
"I know," Harry agreed, "but there's a lot I still don't understand."  
"Me too," said Ron. "Like why did Neville get so shaken up after the Cruciatus Curse?"  
"I don't know," Harry lied. "I mean, it is Neville after all."  
Harry had discovered the year before that Neville's parents had been Aurors (Dark wizard catchers). After Voldemort's defeat, they had met with a group of angry Death Eaters wanting to know where they could find their fallen master. The Death Eaters had then extensively used the Cruciatus Curse on both of them, causing them to lose their minds. They were still alive but were in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where they could no longer even recognize Neville. Dumbledore had told Harry once he had discovered the information that it was not his place to tell anyone. So Harry hadn't, not even Ron or Hermione.  
He also had a strange suspicion that Neville's reaction to the curse had to do with what had happened to his parents.  
"Did you know Charlie was out here with some dragons?" Harry asked Ron.  
Ron nodded. "He left two days ago. Some of his buddies from Romania came back with him, and they're supposed to patrol over the grounds this year."  
Harry sat, imagining what it would be like to ride a dragon. A lot different from flying a broomstick, he decided.  
Ron checked his watch. "We better get going. Even though Hagrid is our teacher, let's not be late."  
Harry picked up his bag and, together, he and Ron made their way out into the entrance hall.  
"Potter!" a sharp voice called before they had reached the front doors.  
Harry turned around to find Professor McGonagall standing at the foot of the marble staircase, beckoning him over.  
"I'll just go on ahead," Ron said as he left through the front doors, casting a wary eye back toward the stern professor.  
Harry walked back to Professor McGonagall.  
"This won't take long," she said, "but I must inform you that you are a prefect." She paused, as though waiting for a reaction.  
"Why me?" he blurted out.  
Obviously this was not the reaction she was looking for. "Because I chose you," she snapped. "You should be grateful. Being a prefect is an honor. Even with your past of rule-breaking, I realized that you were still a student well-respected and listened to by your peers. Many of them look up to you and some of them even consider you a sort of 'hero'." Professor McGonagall gave a sniff that showed her disapproval of this idea but continued anyway. "Therefore, I decided that you will lead by example. You will become a prefect. You will follow the rules. You will concentrate on your studies. Any questions?"  
"But Professor, I don't really want - "  
"I don't care, Potter. You don't have a choice in the matter. You will do as I say, and you will follow the rules. If you decide to do otherwise," she paused, leveling her intense stare at Harry, "I will make your school life very miserable."  
Harry didn't know what to say. What could he say?  
He nodded.  
"Good," Professor McGonagall replied shortly. "I'm glad you see things my way. I already have assurance from Miss Granger that she will comply by the rules. She can also be the one to fill you in on prefect duties. Since you are already late for class, I am not going to hold you up any longer. Good day, Potter." She spun on her heel and marched up the staircase.  
Harry watched her walk away, a fiery injustice burning inside him.  
It wasn't fair, he thought glumly as he exited the front doors. He didn't want to be a damn prefect.  
The rain was still coming down determinedly outside. Harry put his bag over his head and took off for Hagrid's cabin at a sprint. He sloshed quickly through the flooded grounds, slipping and sliding in the mud.  
"Open up, Hagrid!" Harry roared, pounding fiercely on the door, as he reached the small cabin.  
He heard hurried footsteps from within then the door swung open, and Harry leapt inside.  
Hagrid's cabin consisted of a single room. An enormous quilted bed sat in one corner and a table surrounded with chairs was in front of the fireplace. The room was already very crowded with the entire Care of Magical Creatures class crammed inside.  
"Here yeh go, Harry," Hagrid said, tossing him a large, dry towel.  
Harry took it and began to dry his sopping hair and robes.  
"I figured we'd jus' stay inside today," Hagrid said, "since it's rainin' an' all."  
Harry handed the towel back to him and made his way over to the warm fire. Ron and Hermione were already sitting there waiting.  
The Gryffindors had Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. Most of the Gryffindors were sitting around the table and in front of the fire, listening to some of Hagrid's stories. All of the Slytherins were huddled on the bed in the corner, talking quietly among themselves. Harry saw Malfoy look and eye him darkly as he walked in.  
"Wow, Potter," Malfoy drawled so that Hagrid couldn't hear him. "I've seen half-drowned rats that look better than you do right now."  
Harry ignored him.  
He sat down next to Ron, who was lying down on the rug in front of the fireplace, his head propped on his elbow. He was talking to Hermione who was sitting next to him. Ron was talking.  
"Like I said, I don't think you should've gone. What if something had happened to Harry while you were out of the country?"  
"Oh, Ron," Hermione snapped. "Stop being stupid. It was just a friendly visit. Nothing happened between us if that's what you're -"  
"So what'd you do? Did he teach you how to build a snowman?"  
Hermione bristled. "You know, Ron, sometimes you can act really childish."  
Ron gave his best look of innocence, but Hermione continued.  
"And the reason I think you're so concerned about what happened is because you're jealous."  
Ron's mouth snapped shut, and his face turned slightly pink. He opened it again as though to say something but nothing came out.  
Harry jumped to Ron's rescue. "Hey guys," he said, drawing their attention to him, "what's been going on so far?"  
Ron finally seemed to come back to himself and answered. "Hagrid's just been telling us about some of his hunting adventures in the Forbidden Forest."  
Hagrid had taken a seat and was looking around at the small group of Gryffindors gathered around him. "Ah, now, where was I?"  
"You were just telling us about the time you were looking for that injured unicorn," Lavender Brown said.  
"Oh yeah," Hagrid remembered. "Let's see. That was abou' four years ago. There were unicorn's bin hurt in the Forest, see, an' I figured I'd put 'em out o' their mis'ry if I e'er found one. So one day I did. Me an' Fang were jus' out huntin' in the Forest when I saw it. It wasn' too far off an' I could tell it was limpin' pretty bad. So I followed it a little ways an' jus' as I was pullin' out me crossbow, yeh know what jumped out o' the trees?"  
"A flobberworm?" Ron guessed. Everyone laughed, even Hagrid.  
"No," he continued, "a werewolf."  
Lavender and her best friend Parvati Patil both gave a gasp.  
"It's true," Hagrid said. "He come burstin' out o' the trees an' tore the unicorn apart. Now normally, unicorns can' be killed so easily 'cause they're so magical, but this one was so weak an' couldn' hardly get away that the wolf tore it apart."  
"Aw, poor thing," Lavender said sadly.  
"Yeah, but I was more worried abou' meself then. It was beginnin' ter get dark an' I wasn' really sure which way was the way back so I took off runnin'. Me an' Fang ran as fast as we could but we heard it righ' behind us, an' it was getting' closer."  
"Now I ain' one ter get scared real easy but righ' then I was really thinkin' it was gonna be the end. We was gettin' ter the mountains an' there wasn' hardly no place left ter go. But jus' when I though' we were through, someone saved us. An' yeh know who it was?"  
"Dumbledore?" Neville ventured timidly.  
"Nope. It was a centaur. Now I'd seen centaurs before but somethin' abou' this one was special. He was huge, almos' as big as me. He had long, silver hair an' beard, an' even his horse half was silver hair. His hooves were gold. But he looked really old. An' smart. Somethin' abou' him made me think this guy usually knew what he was talkin' abou'. But anyway, he came out o' this cave an' told me ter follow him. Now usually I wouldn' be trustin' strange centaurs like that but what choice did I have? I followed him."  
"He led me a little ways in ter the cave ter this enormous chamber, bigger 'n the Great Hall, filled with dozens o' the other centaurs. It was like a meetin' room or somethin'."  
"Wait," interrupted Seamus. "Didn't the werewolf chase you inside the cave?"  
"Nah," Hagrid said. "They don' like 'em, caves. Prefer the forest instead."  
"But anyway, these centaurs, they were a rough-lookin' bunch. Like a bunch o' rebels or somethin'. An' none o' them were afraid ter speak their mind, none, either. Highly unusual fer centaurs."  
"Then the centaur who saved me, told me his name was Vesper. Said that one day, the school'd need their help. Said they saw it in the stars. Don' remember too much after that, must've gone unconscious. Woke up here again at me cabin, but.Oh yeah! They said somethin' abou' not carin' abou' interferin', as long as innocents were saved.whatever that meant."  
The class stared at Hagrid in silence as he ended his story.  
"Yep, an' it's all true." He glanced out the window. "Looks like it's still comin' down pretty good out there. Who wants tea?"  
As Hagrid began making tea for the class, Ron turned to Harry and Hermione. "D'you believe that story?"  
Hermione looked at him, shocked. "What do you mean 'do I believe that story?' Of course I believe it. Are you saying Hagrid's lying?"  
Ron suddenly was looking as though he wished he hadn't said anything. "No," he mumbled, "it's just that you know how Hagrid likes to drink.I thought maybe he had.never mind." he muttered, looking down, embarrassed.  
"Well, be that as it may, I think he's telling the truth." Hermione said in a tone that suggested it settled the matter.  
"Here's yeh tea," Hagrid called as he brought over a large pot and a stack of cups.  
Everyone began helping themselves, but Harry didn't want any tea. He wanted to talk to Hagrid, alone.  
"Hey, Hagrid," Harry said, keeping his voice low so that no one else would hear. "Do you want to step outside where we can talk?"  
Hagrid looked up at Harry. He must have seen the meaningful look in Harry's eyes because he said, "Sure, go on ahead. I'll be right there."  
Harry made his way to the back door, checking to make sure no one was paying too much attention to him. Ron and Hermione were arguing over something again.  
Harry stepped outside, raising the hood on his cloak to help shelter him from the rain.  
He only had to wait for about a minute before Hagrid walked out, carrying his pink umbrella. He opened it so he and Harry could huddle beneath it.  
"So what's on yeh mind, Harry?" Hagrid asked.  
The thing was, even Harry wasn't exactly sure.  
"What was my mum like, Hagrid?" he asked suddenly.  
Hagrid seemed taken aback at the question. "Well," he began uncertainly, "she was very pretty. Yer father was a very lucky man. She was smart an' made friends pretty easy. In fac' I think her an' Snape used ter be pretty good friends."  
"Snape?" Harry asked in surprise. "My mother was friends with Snape?"  
"Yep. Why?" Hagrid asked. "Can' picture 'em as friends?"  
"I can't picture Snape being friends with anyone," he blurted out before he could stop himself.  
Hagrid frowned. "No, Snape had friends. Just 'cause you don' like him doesn' mean nobody ever did. He's a lot colder now than he was back then, but o' course.." Hagrid came to an abrupt stop as though fearful he had said too much.  
But Harry really didn't feel like talking about Snape so he didn't press Hagrid to continue. Something was bothering him, and he didn't know what it was. Something was gnawing at him, deep inside..  
"Hagrid, did you know the two students who were killed?"  
"Yeah," Hagrid answered, looking puzzled at the sudden change of subject. "They were good kids. It was a little gang o' them. There was Natalie and Tony.and Emma." Harry pictured the girl with short black hair at the Gryffindor table, ".an' o' course, Austin. Yep, they were a real gang, kinda like you, Ron, an' Hermione. I talked to 'em one night after the first task las' year. It was righ' after yeh summoned yer Firebolt ter fly past the Horntail. That's all they talked abou', really impressed, they were. An' Quidditch, that's another thing they talked abou'. They all loved ter fly. I think they even said somethin' abou' wantin' ter play fer Gryffindor this year.." Hagrid trailed off, his eyes sad and remembering.  
"Austin said their compartment had been one o' the firsts ter be attacked," Hagrid continued. "Said he had gone lookin' fer the snack witch when the train was flipped. He was in the compartment nex' door. Emma hadn' been in it either. She had gone lookin' fer one o' her Ravenclaw friends."  
"Austin said he saw the Death Eaters come from the woods an' come inter Natalie an' Tony's compartment." Hagrid's voice lowered to a whisper, his eyes filled with tears. "He said the Death Eaters didn' say anythin' to 'em before they killed 'em. Can yeh believe it? Not a word." Hagrid shook his head sadly.  
"Said one o' the Death Eaters told the other they couldn' kill the whole train o' kids like that. Word would get out of it, an' Fudge'd have an impossible time coverin' it up. That's when Austin said he ran, ran straight inter the woods an' found a spot ter hide. That's where I found him early this mornin'."  
"He was a real mess, still ballin' his eyes out abou' his friends. We brough' him straigh' back ter the castle. Dumbledore was shocked. Ain' never seen Dumbledore so upset. He blamed himself fer their deaths. Other 'n Cedric las' year, an' there wasn' much he could o' done abou' that, no student's ever died at Hogwarts while he was headmaster. Says he coulda protected the train better, but the thing is, no one was really expectin' an attack on it. Thought You-Know-Who wouldn' dare do somethin' that bold yet. But He's back, Harry, an' it ain' no half-powerful imposter either. It's the real thing, an' I don' guess it won't be long before things is back like they was fifteen years ago.."  
The Hogwarts Express.destroyed. Two Hogwarts students.murdered. But why? What had been the point of the attack? What did Voldemort want?  
A sudden realization sunk like a chunk of ice in his stomach, and he knew. But he didn't want it to be true.It just couldn't be true.It couldn't be the reason why two innocent students were now lying in their graves..  
"Why?!" Harry burst out, defeat in his voice. "Why was the train attacked, Hagrid?!"  
Hagrid looked at him, a cold somber look in his eyes.  
"'Cause He wants you, Harry. He's searchin' fer yeh, an' He won' rest, no matter how many people or trains get in the way,.until he finds yeh." 


End file.
